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Your Pastor and Brother, 


WILLIAM L. GAYLORD. 


TO 

“OUR MOTHER” 

IS THIS 

MEMORIAL VOLUME 


Affectionately Dedicated. 


“ Happy he 

With such a mother ! faith in womankind 
Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high 
Comes easy to him, and though he trip and fall, 
He shall not blind his soul with clay.” 


gw iUeraariara. 

WILLIAM LUTHER GAYLORD was the 
second son of Horace and Mary Amidon (Davis) 
Gaylord. He was born in Woodstock, Conn., 
October 14, 1831. He studied at Harvard Sci¬ 
entific School, 1856-7; one year at the Theolog¬ 
ical Institute of Connecticut; graduated at Union 
Theological Seminary in 1861; was ordained 
pastor of the church at Fitzwilliam, N. H., Sep¬ 
tember 14, i860 ; was county school commissioner 
there from i860 to 1864; was installed pastor at 
Nashua, N. H., December 31, 1867; was a mem¬ 
ber of the New Hampshire Legislature in 1867; 
was elected a member of New Hampshire His¬ 
torical Society in 1870; was installed pastor of 
the First Church, Meriden, Conn., December 22, 
1870 ; and of the Third Church, Chicopee, Mass., 
April 5, 1876, where he remained till his death. 
He was married June 12, 1861, to Miss Juliet F. 
Hyde of Norwich, Conn., who died in Meriden, 
Conn., March 17, 1875. 

He died in Chicopee, Mass., of apoplexy, 
December 26, 1882. 

“ For so He giveth His beloved sleep.” 


1* 




“ Thy way, not mine, 0 Lord, 
However dark it be ! 

Lead me by Thine own hand ; 

Choose out my path for me. 

I dare not choose my lot; 

I would not, if I might; 

Choose Thou for me, my God, 

So shall I walk aright. 

The kingdom that I seek 
Is thine : so let the way 
That leads to it be Thine, 

Else I must surely stray. 

Take Thou my cup, and it 
With joy or sorrow fill, 

As best to Thee may seem; 
Choose Thou my good and ill. 

Choose Thou for me my friends, 
My sickness or my health ; 
Choose Thou my cares for me, 

My poverty or wealth. 

Not mine, not mine the choice, 

In all things great or small; 

Be Thou my Guide, my Strength, 
My Wisdom and my All.” 




TABLE OF CONTENTS 


Title-Page, ....... 

Dedication, ....... 

Quotation, ....... 

“ In Memoriam,” ------- 

Table of Contents, ...... 

Editor’s Preface, - - - - 

Preface. Rev. S. G. Buckingham, D.D., 

Selected Hymns : 

“ I shall be with Him.” R. Baxter, 

“ He knoweth the way.” H. Bonar, 

“ Thou art near.” O. W. Holmes, 

“The Lord is my Shepherd.” Jas. Montgomery, 
Funeral Sermon. Rev. E. W. Bacon, - 
Eulogy. Rev. F. M. Sprague, - 
Sermons and other addresses : 

I. “ Emmanuel,” - 

II. “ Kindness,” - 

III. “ Satisfied in the Divine Likeness,” 

IV. “ Rest Awhile,”. 

V. “ The Confession of Agrippa,” - 

VI. “Autumnal Thoughts,” 

VII. “ The Soul’s Anchor,” - - - - 

VIII. “ The Saints’Citizenship,” 

IX. “ Christian Kindred,” - - - - 

X. “ Strength for thy Day,” 

XI. “The Shallows and the Depths,” 

XII. “The Nation’s Sorrow,” 

XIII. “The Disciples’Joy,” - 

XIV. “ Pastoral Charge,” - 

XV. “ Liberty and Accountability,” - 

XVI. “Repentance Demanded,” 

XVII. “ The Kingdom of Peace,” 

XVIII. “ Christian Completeness,” 

XIX. “ One-sided Life,” - 

XX. “ Relation of Christianity to Business,” 

XXI. “The Uplifted One,” - 

XXII. “ Address at Installation of Rev. L. H. Blake,” 
XXIII. “ Memorial Address,” - 

XXIV. Extracts, - 


i 


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EDITOR’S PREFACE. 


It is a task of no small difficulty to edit another’s writ¬ 
ings for publication. To select from a large amount of 
material gathered during a busy life that which shall best 
represent a man’s growth, requires a knowledge of the 
man outside of his written utterances. My purpose has 
been to catch the developing thought of an active man in 
the midst of his activity. It is like taking a photograph 
of a person when he is unconscious of the fact. Every 
position of the body, every lineament of the face is on 
the alert, uncomposed for a sitting. So here. These 
writings were not prepared for publication. If they had 
been, they might have sometimes been more technically 
artistic, but then they would have been less vitally life¬ 
like. We have our subject at his every-day work, in his 
study, in his pulpit, in the world of men. And all the 
while he does not suspect that we are looking on and tak¬ 
ing note of the work, and the growth as well. And yet I 
have somehow felt, as I have been preparing this “memo¬ 
rial of love,” that his spirit has frequently hovered near 
and prompted the work with his unique “ timely sugges¬ 
tions.” It is delightful to believe that the “ loved ones 
gone before ” still retain a loving knowledge of and care 
for those of us who remain. The friends who may peruse 
these pages will find, I think, many things characteristic¬ 
ally suggestive of the man and his work. I have been 



9 


aided in this by the selections being largely made in 
accordance with individual requests. Many more ser¬ 
mons were thus selected than could be used. As it is, 
the book has largely outgrown its original proportions. 
The effort has been to select something from the differ¬ 
ent periods of his life, so that all who have known him 
may find some familiar utterance speaking pleasantly to 
memory of the days gone by. Every sermon and every 
extract bears the impress of some loving heart, desiring 
“ to see in print what had been so grateful to the ear.” 

It is not fitting that I should speak specifically of the 
character of the completed book. That is the province 
of those for whom the work has been undertaken. Nor 
is it necessary that I should add anything to what has 
been so fittingly said of him whose sudden death gave 
occasion for this compilation. But I cannot well let the 
opportunity pass without noticing one element in his 
character deserving special mention in this “Memorial 
Volume.” I refer to his magnanimity . One may be 
generous to friends and charitable to the unfortunate, but 
“ to forgive in love ” is a rare attainment. 

To my mind here was largely the secret of his hold on 
his acquaintances, both in private and public life. He 
had no resentments to scorch the vitality out of his work. 
He was glad to feel that “ no offence was intended.” 
The world is full of antagonisms. No man, positively 
active, can fail to awaken them. Evil-minded persons 
and small-hearted ones are always ready to fume and fret, 
and occasionally have courage to stab in the dark. It is 
a furnishment from God to be able to feel charitably 
towards and to do kindly for such as are wilfully pos¬ 
sessed of an evil spirit. Here William was a stalwart. 
In this he emphasized the indwelling love of Christ in his 


10 


practical life, and fully justified what has been written con¬ 
cerning the qualities of his social and Christian life. 

I desire to take this opportunity to express my gratitude 
to those who have been helpful in this work. To the dear 
ones w r ho assisted in making the selections; to Mrs. 
Etta M. Daniels of Chicopee, Mass., for valuable editorial 
aid; to the three brethren who have so cheerfully and 
gracefully written loving and appreciative words of him 
whose loss we shall always mourn ; and to all other friends 
who have kindly encouraged this undertaking, I feel 
myself to be under lasting obligation. 

The book is sent forth not only as a testimonial of lov¬ 
ing hearts, but as a humble means of preaching the gos¬ 
pel, in the hope that all who read these pages may find in 
them help and inspiration to a better life. 

S. D. G. 

Bridgeport, Conn. 

“ He being dead, yet speaketh.” 


CORRECTIONS. 

Page 33, 12th line, read “ Stone ” for “ Stowe.” 

Page 132, 23d line, read “hypercritic” for “ hypocritic.” 
Page 318, 5th line, read “lore ” for “love.” 

Page 350, 3d line, read “memoirs” for “mansions.” 

Page 396, 6th line, read “submissive” for “submission.” 




SERMONS 


w 


AND OTHER PAPERS 


OF 


Rev. William L. Gaylord, 

PASTOR OF THE THIRD CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH OF CHICOPEE, MASS. 


EDITED BY 

Rev. SAMUEL D. GAYLORD, 


PASTOR OF OLIVET CHURCH OF BRIDGEPORT, CONN. 


MEMORIAL VOLUME. 


“As for me, I will behold thy face in righteousness; I shall be 
satisfied, when I awake, with thy likeness.”— Ps. 17 : 15. 



HARTFORD, CONN.: 

The Case, Lockwood & Brainard Company, Printers. 

1883. 




1369 


" Lord, it belongs not to my care 
Whether I die or live; 

To love and serve Thee is my share, 
And this Thy grace must give. 


If life be long, I will be glad 
That I may long obey ; 

If short, yet why should I be sad 
To soar to endless day ? 


Come, Lord, when grace hath made me meet 
Thy blessed face to see ; 

For, if Thy work on earth be sweet, 

What will Thy glory be ? 

My knowledge of that life is small; 

The eye of faith is dim; 

But ’tis enough that Christ knows all, 

And I shall be with Him.” 





PREFACE. 


Rev. S. G. Buckingham, D.D. 


The Gaylords were a typical New England family. 
They lived in one of the farming towns of Eastern 
Connecticut, where nobody had much property fifty 
years ago, but where all were industrious, frugal, 
moral, and they were as well off as their neighbors. 
The whole town of Ashford contained perhaps 1,200 
inhabitants, and the little parish of Ashford Hill, only 
250 of them. Here was a church, school-house, post- 
office, two or three stores, two blacksmith shops, and 
a harness shop, not only for the farmers, but also for 
the stage lines between Hartford and Boston, and 
Hartford and Providence, that met here, and made it 
a post of considerable importance. The father of 
this family was the village harness-maker, when the 
trade included trunk making, and carriage trimming, 
besides the manufacture of military equipments. 
The oldest boys were taught to “ work in the shop,” 
where they became more or less expert in the several 
branches of the trade, two of them, including the 
subject of these memoirs, turning their attention 
particularly to trunk making, while another became 
the harness-maker of the establishment. The father 
was intelligent and influential, and commanded 




12 


the respect and confidence of the community, as 
appears from his being first selectman of the town for 
many years, and elected again and again without 
opposition, until the infirmities of age compelled him 
to retire. He was also clerk of the court of Probate, 
and then Judge of Probate. The mother, who is still 
living, is what we might expect from the successful 
training of such a family, a woman of excellent judg¬ 
ment, good domestic management, and devoted piety. 
The children consisted of seven sons,—a large 
number of boys to be trained successfully without the 
softening influence of a single sister. 

The ideas of the family were peculiarly New Eng¬ 
land. Each was to do something, and be somebody. 
He must be trained to self support, and contribute to 
the support of the rest, and be of some use in the 
world. He must become an important member of the 
household, fill his place well in the little community 
around him, be a reliable and faithful citizen of the 
Republic, and be a devoted servant of Christ, with 
reference to the advancement of His cause in the 
earth. To do this, he must be aware of the capaci¬ 
ties within him, and cultivate his powers, and improve 
every opportunity for doing so, trusting in God to 
favor such praiseworthy endeavors, and furnish a 
sphere for the use of such attainments. All must have 
a good education, even if they had to obtain it for 
themselves, and perhaps supply their deficiencies late 
in life. And all must mark out some useful and 
noble course in life, and expect to pursue it vigorously 
in spite of difficulties and discouragements. 


13 


So thoroughly sensible, and deeply religious, were 
the influences under which this large family of boys 
came, and the result shows how they were moulded 
by them. 

They all learned to work, and were capable of self- 
support. Two of them made their way through Yale 
College, and became physicians. Two more, includ¬ 
ing William, though not educated at college, were well 
educated, and entered the ministry. The rest were 
intelligent, reliable men, who could appreciate a princi¬ 
ple, and would respond to a duty. Nothing shows the 
qualities of the family better, than the response they 
gave to the call for troops when the war of the rebel¬ 
lion broke out. Five out of seven went into the 
army. One was too young, and another, the minister, 
deemed it his duty to look after his parents and his 
parish, where his patriotism inspired the whole com¬ 
munity and sent many a substitute to the front, 
although he could not go himself. Of those who 
went into the army, one starved to death in Salisbury 
prison ; another came home sick, and soon died of con¬ 
sumption, the result of his army life; another one 
lives as a cripple on crutches; while one of the others, 
if not both, is still suffering in health from those hard¬ 
ships. Happy the State that has such citizens, for 
she is invincible, and it is such families that furnish 
them. 

“ What is the State ?— 

Men who their duties know, and know their rights, 

And knowing dare maintain.” 

It is interesting to see how the family character¬ 
istics were combined in this member of it, and what 


2 


in him were the results of such training. He took his 
physical constitution, with a certain delicate sympathy 
of feeling, from his mother, while his coolness and 
sagacious management were derived from his father. 
As a young man he was noted for his ability to provide 
for an emergency, and find a way out of almost any 
entanglement, and this was what always made him 
such an excellent adviser to those in perplexity, and 
his preaching so helpful in suggestions amid the 
difficulties of life. Add to this his spirit of self- 
sacrifice and well known generosity, and we have, 
under the control of Christian fidelity, the chief 
elements of his influence and usefulness. His circum¬ 
stances and training, also, called into requisition these 
very elements, and helped to make them so useful to 
himself, and to others. He went to work, as soon as 
he was old enough, and learned his trade, and with a 
brother carried it on for awhile. Then he became a 
teacher, and finding himself inclined toward the minis¬ 
try, put himself under instruction in Latin and Greek, 
until he was prepared to take up theological studies, 
when he went to the seminary and completed a full 
course. And this he did at his own expense, with 
assistance from no one, except as a loan. Next we 
find him undertaking to carry a younger brother 
through college, and then coming to the relief of his 
father, who had become embarrased by the loss of his 
sons, and the expenses connected with their army life. 
This last seemed likely for awhile to prove too much 
for him, till a friend came to his aid, to whom he 
subsequently repaid every dollar with interest. His 


5 


memoranda showed that he had devoted more than 
$7,000 to helping his parents and younger brothers, 
and others who could never repay him, besides his 
generous contributions to benevolent objects. 

With such characteristics, and such a spirit, it is no 
wonder he made a useful minister,—acquired respect, 
affection, influence,—was a helpful preacher, a tender 
pastor, and a man of influence in public affairs ; and 
that, falling in the midst of his usefulness and seem¬ 
ing vigor, he left a disconsolate people, a mourning 
community, and ministerial brethren who knew and 
praised his worth. 

With such families as these, the church is no less 
favored than the State. Their sons and daughters 
can be trained to any service, and with such a spirit, 
may be depended upon for every duty, to which the 
providence of God shall summon them. And with 
such service the church is safe. 

“ What is the church, 

But hearts loyal to God, to all men true, 

Souls fit for earth or heaven, the company 
Invisible, that stand and wait, or fly 
To minister to future heirs of grace.” 

The lesson of such a life is, the worth of such 
homes and the value of such training. There are 
many such families,—if their members would realize 
their capabilities, and improve their opportunities,— 
parents to make such men and women, and children 
to become such patriots and Christians. 

Springfield , Mass., August , 1883. 



A SERVANT OF THE LORD JESUS CHRIST. 


AN ADDRESS AT THE FUNERAL 


OF THE 

Rev. WILLIAM L. GAYLORD, 


EDWARD WOOLSEY BACON, 

Pastor of the First Church of Christ in New London. 


2* 


Where shall we find that which our Lord has not 
touched with His redemption ? He hears the confes¬ 
sion of every repenting sinner, and answers, “ Go in 
peace and sin no more;” He visits the broken-hearted, 
and says, “ Let not your heart be troubled, neither let 
it be afraid ; ” He is at once the Saviour of the soul and 
of the body too, making the earthly house of our 
tabernacle the temple of the Holy Ghost; He enters 
every chamber of wasting sickness with the revela¬ 
tion, “This corruptible must put on incorruption;” 
and, although He went, with faltering step, to weep at 
the grave of a friend, He puts a new song into the 
mouth of the dying and of the surviving also, 

“ O death, where is thy sting ; 

O grave, where is thy victory ? ” 

But not only is the Lord near us with blessed influ¬ 
ences in such personal ministration, according to our 
present infirmity, let it be what it may ; all around us, 
too, His touch may be seen, even in little and not 
often noticed things, as a sort of supplemental proof 
of His power and His care, as if, on our toilsome path 
through life, He would have us recognize the way as 
that which He trod and glorified, and in which He 
scattered roses and other such flowers as bloom and 
are gathered only from thorns. It was indeed His 
errand to wean us from love of the earth and from 
merely earthly loves; He said, indeed, “ He that loveth 


l 9 


father or mother more than me is not worthy of 
me ; ” He would indeed lead to “ a better country, even 
a heavenlybut He did not find it necessary to be¬ 
little or debase this present; He rather glorified it and 
made it delightful as never before; for He said also, 
“ Every one that hath left houses, or brethren or 
sisters, or father or mother, or children or lands, for 
my name’s sake, shall receive a hundred-fold, and shall 
inherit eternal life.” Born of the virgin, cradled with 
the beasts, numbered with the transgressors, He has 
touched and ennobled each incident of human life, 
that nothing shall be called common or unclean. 
Trained by the village carpenter, Himself among men 
“ as one that serveth,” He has glorified each occupa¬ 
tion and made it royal. The very speech of men has 
gained new significance from Christ; the Christian 
scriptures have taught new words and fresh and bles¬ 
sed significations for old words that were repulsive 
and hard, and these things that are least God hath 
chosen, to confound the things that are great. 

There is no one word by which the representatives 
of Christ in the leadership of His church have better 
loved to call themselves than the name of “ servant.” 
The names of those who preach His gospel are always, 
according to the nearness of the preachers to the 
Master, names synonymous with that of “servant.” 
And the name of servant was given us by Him. It 
runs through all His teaching; it designates His dis¬ 
ciples and His representatives through all the parables; 
and when we read of “ Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ,” 
as he loved to introduce himself, we are come very 
near the highest Christian dignity. 


20 


And, in these moments by the body of one gone to 
his rest from the Christian ministry, whom every 
heart follows with desire to catch the words,—sug¬ 
gested by every thought of well employed talents 
rendered up at the Master’s call,—“Well done, good 
and faithful servant, enter into the joy of thy Lord,” 
what can I better offer for consolation or for exult¬ 
ation in sorrow, than thoughts of what this brother 
was,—of what every faithful preacher is, the Servant 
of Jesus Christ. 

For, first of all, in this consideration, I am dis¬ 
charged from any necessity of personal eulogy or 
personal criticism. Who am I, that judgeth another 
man’s servant ? Were this merely a citizen’s life that 
has ended ; were this the career of a servant of the 
public that has closed to our observation, I might 
speak of the man and of his work. But this is a 
servant of the Lord Jesus Christ. To his own Master 
he standeth or falleth. 

But think, in the line of what I said in beginning, 
what word is this I am using as the proudest claim to 
be made for the minister,—that he is a servant. It 
has been of old the lowest of all titles. It is the 
ancient name for a slave. The revision of the New 
Testament recognizes that, by reading in its margin, 
where ever the word comes, “Servant,—or, bond- 
servant.” There were other words for servants of 
peculiar dignity, or for other agents of authority; but 
the word in common use by the Teacher and the 
taught is the ancient name for a slave. It would be 
into gloomy thoughts indeed we should be led were I 


21 


to trace the way rapidly backward into the ancient 
slave-life, in which the master’s will was as fate and 
the servant’s body and life dependent on the master’s 
whim ; when, for the breaking of a dish, or on a 
frivolous dislike, the servant might be slain and no 
account be taken of the deed.^ For then service 
should seem like drudgery, and life be emptied of both 
pleasure and hope, and the years and talents spent by 
a servant of Jesus Christ be thought of with pity and 
regret. 

But against that possibility from the olden time, I 
set the present reality, as Christ has touched both the 
word and the work and made them glorious, so that, 
at a minister’s ordination and at a minister’s burial 
alike, “We preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus as 
Lord, and ourselves your servants for Jesus’ sake.” 
Since He declared “I am among you as one that 
serveth,” every laborious life and every life of drudgery 
is made lighter, and, as the Epistles demonstrate, 
every actual slave has become the Lord’s freeman. 
Every burden is His burden and every yoke is His 
yoke. And it has come to pass that even the world 
pays its highest tribute to those noble souls who stoop 
the lowest for humanity’s sake. It has come to pass 
that idleness is a crying shame, and self-denying ser¬ 
vice is the object of the highest eulogy. 

Such is the work of Christ in this incidental re¬ 
demption of a word and of what the word stands for. 
“ It is enough that the disciple be as his Master and 
the servant as his Lordand how proud may be the 
thought of a parent that a son was in a peculiar sense, 


22 


and as a representative of Christ in the leadership of 
his church, a servant of the Lord Jesus Christ; how 
proud the remembrance of sons and daughters of a 
father who, turning away from opportunities of tem¬ 
poral advancement, gave himself to be a servant of the 
Lord Jesus, remaining, like his Master, poor, that 
through his poverty many might become rich ; how 
glad the thought of a friendship and devotion become 
willing to share such service of the Lord, so that, 
around this bier, and at the moment of our lamenta¬ 
tions, we, who mourn the most profoundly, are also 
the most exultant. 

In another respect, however, these moments remind 
us sadly of what it is to be a servant ; “ for the servant 
knoweth not what his Lord doeth.” The work of the 
servant is plain enough; his portion is no more than 
he has strength to do; but how little he can under¬ 
stand of the vast plan which he humbly and for a 
little while helps to .execute. Interested and absorbed 
in his own small part, how great must be the sur¬ 
prise, how inexplicable the reason, when sudden sum¬ 
mons breaks off that task and calls away the laborer! 

Thus it is now with us, as we are groping to find 
an explanation of what has befallen us. But let us 
not forget that such sharp and sad surprises and such 
bitter disappointments are not peculiar to this little 
group. They fall upon all sorts and conditions of 
men with terrible upheaval, under their blows, of 
what seemed solid ground. 

But nowhere else can there be more comfort than 
when it is a servant of the Lord Jesus Christ who is 


23 


thus cut down. Who, but the faithful Christian 
minister, is “ that faithful and wise servant whom his 
Lord hath set over His household to give them their 
meat in due season ? Blessed is that servant whom 
his Lord when He cometh shall find so doing.” For 
the servant waits upon his Masters will and his 
Master’s coming; he is always prepared to render his 
account : he is ready, knowing that, “ in an hour 
when he thinketh not, the Son of Man cometh.” 

Thus it has been with the servant of Jesus Christ 
whose silent form is before us, to whom the Son of 
Man came by the messenger of death, in an hour 
when he thought not. 

But from these circumstances of sorrow how blessed 
it is for us to look away to where the servant and 
the Master are together, and the “Well done” is said 
and the entrance into the Lord’s joy completed. In 
that new relation, how the servant is emancipated. 
At that supper, new in the kingdom of the Father, 
how true are the words which seem obscure of mean¬ 
ing here. “No longer do I call you servants ; for the 
servant knoweth not what his Lord doeth ; but I have 
called you friends ; for all things that I heard from 
my Father, I have made known unto you.” 

In the memories of this hour, and out of its disap¬ 
pointments, let such thoughts as these possess and 
calm our souls that we may learn the solemn triumph 
of our hymn : 

“ Go to the grave, in all thy glorious prime, 

In full activity of zeal and power ; 

A Christian cannot die before his time, 

The Lord’s appointment is the servant’s hour. 



24 


Go to the grave ;—no, take thy rest above ; 

Be thy pure spirit present with the Lord, 
Where thou for faith and hope hast perfect love, 
And open vision for the written word ! ” 


EULOGY, 

PREPARED AT THE REQUEST OF THE 

CONNECTICUT VALLEY CONGREGATIONAL 
CLUB, 

BY REV. F. M. SPRAGUE, 

AND READ AT THE MEETING OF THE CLUB IN 
SPRINGFIELD, MASS., JANUARY 22, 1883. 


3 


Friends and Brethren: 

Since our last meeting, and for the first time since 
our organization, death has broken our ranks. 

Rev. Wm. L. Gaylord, of Chicopee, a brother 
dearly beloved, and an honored officer of this club, 
has been summoned up higher. 

On the morning of the 26th of December last he 
rose apparently in excellent health, but while attend¬ 
ing to the furnace in the basement of his house he 
was stricken with apoplexy, and fell to the floor. 
Death, however, had grappled with no mean antago¬ 
nist. The brave man summoned help, and with his 
one strong arm, and firm foot, and his iron will, he 
dragged the lifeless half of his body across the base¬ 
ment and up the stairway. 

The disease rapidly approached the heart, and in 
the space of three hours, during a part of which time 
he was unconscious, he fell asleep. 

Thus, after a lifetime of waiting, watching, and 
knocking, the door was suddenly opened and he 
passed in through the gate Beautiful to that fellow¬ 
ship with Christ and that sweet communion with the 
Saints, in the earthly foretastes of which his soul so 
much delighted. 

At your request, dear brethren, I have gratefully 
gathered a few materials with which to-day we may 
embalm his memory. We bring choice flowers freshly 


27 


plucked from memory, sweet spices from various fields 
of labor, and gems of thought and pearls of truth that 
have dropped from the lips now silent; testimonials 
glad and rare to noble deeds and generous words 
extending from boyhood to the day of his death ; tender 
and loving tributes from kindred, friends, and people, 
and lastly, our own sincere affection, whereby as with 
precious ointment we may anoint him, not for burial , 
but for perpetual remembrance. 

William Luther Gaylord was born in Wood- 
stock, Conn., Oct. 14, 1831. He was the second of 
seven sons, children of Horace and Mary A. Gaylord. 
His mother and four brothers survive him. His father 
was Judge of Probate for many years. He was also a 
member of the board of education, first selectman of 
the town for a long period, and held many minor 
offices. -He died March 27, 1877, at the age of 73. 

His mother is a representative of the best type of 
the old-fashioned New England womanhood. A lady 
of gentle dignity, sweet strength of character, and a 
devoted Christian wife and mother. She looked upon 
her children as loaned of the Lord. This godly 
woman and aged mother in Israel, having seen the 
salvation of the Lord in the conversion of all her 
children, is patiently waiting to depart. Three of the 
seven sons studied for the ministry. All of them in 
early life were successful teachers. Five of them 
volunteered in the war to save the Republic. One 
perished from starvation in a rebel prison; one came 
home and died from a disease induced by exposure 
while in the service, and another returned crippled for 


28 


life. This brother with three others, still survive: 
one is an able minister of the gospel, Rev. S. D. Gay¬ 
lord, of Bridgeport, Conn., and two are physicians, the 
youngest of whom is a brother member of this club, 
Dr. Edward E. Gaylord of Florence, Mass. 

This brief history of the birth and family of our 
deceased brother sheds additional lustre on his 
memory, and more than justifies the observations 
made by Dr. S. G. Buckingham, who conducted the 
funeral service, that his was what we love to call a 
typical New England family. 

Soon after the birth of William his parents settled 
in the town of Ashford, Conn. Here he passed his 
boyhood and youth, and amid the discipline of a large 
family, the stern necessities of farm life, tilling the 
soil and tending cattle, with three months schooling 
in winter, were laid the foundations of that manly 
character which won the respect and confidence of all 
who knew him. 

Cicero, I think it was, once said he liked to see a 
little of the man in the boy and a little of the boy in 
the man. This was true of our departed brother. 
He was a manly boy, and often discovered an acumen 
and judgment beyond his years. A single incident will 
illustrate this. A man once visited the farmer to 
purchase young stock. William, though a mere lad, 
was directed to exhibit the stock. “ How old is that 
heifer ? ” asked the stranger. “ A yearling, sir,” replied 
William. “ Arn’t you mistaken, that looks like a two- 
year old ? ” “ All our yearlings are two-year olds,” 

was the prompt reply. 


29 


At this early age when boys, if ever, shirk and are 
selfish, he showed a disposition to be helpful. If the 
load was heavy, his shoulder was at the wheel. 

William went ahead and broke the path, and always 
as by instinct took the heavy end of the burden. 
This generous trait won from his mother the sobriquet 
of “ The Burden Bearer.” 

In the home, at school, on the farm, at work or play, 
his strong arm and sympathizing heart could be drawn 
on at sight 

When he was seventeen, Ashford was agitated with 
the temperance question. In connection with this 
movement an incident occurred which shows his manly 
courage, and his ingenuous truth-loving nature. A 
certain liquor shop defied the temperance sentiment. 
William, at the head of several boy-companions, under¬ 
took to suppress this nuisance. Moral suasion not 
availing, the boys prosecuted the seller and succeeded 
in getting him convicted in the lower court. He how¬ 
ever took an appeal, which then, as is now apt to be 
the result in such cases, proved fatal to justice and 
morality. But youth bravely battling for the right 
never knows defeat; it may check ardor, but it strength¬ 
ens principle and is thus turned into victory. 

William approached this man, entrenched not only 
behind his bar, but behind immemorial custom and a 
formidable public opinion, and said openly and hero¬ 
ically, “There are seven men in this town whom 
your rum will kill within three years.” Thus spoke this 
youthful prophet, and six out of the seven men died 
within the time specified. These facts are still fresh 
3 * 


30 


in the memory of a large circle of the friends and ac¬ 
quaintances of his youth. The absence of all youth¬ 
ful excesses in this affair is worthy of remark. The 
stimulus of a worthy object, the ardor of youth, the 
challenge of opposition, together with the conscious¬ 
ness of being in the right, did not betray him into 
sympathy with lawless measures, or the use of unwor¬ 
thy means for the accomplishment of good ends; and 
this golden principle of rectitude, to his praise be it 
said, characterized his whole career. 

At the age of sixteen he became a Christian. His 
conversion was not sudden. He thought along while, 
then solemnly and deliberately avowed himself on the 
Lord’s side. This early habit of thoughtfulness was 
also characteristic of the man. With him religion was 
not so much an impulse as a deep principle. During 
his attendance at the old academy in Ashford, he dis¬ 
covered those powers of mind which gave promise of 
the future. The principal, Rev. E. B. Huntington, 
did not confine his influence to the school-room, but 
inspired his pupils with noble impulses and lofty aims. 
* In the village lyceum the ablest disputants found in 
this youth a foe worthy of their steel, and in these 
societies, as president, he acquired that knowledge of 
the duties of a presiding officer which we have seen 
him display with signed ability and dignity. 

But a crisis was approaching. The time had come, 
which comes to all noble youth, of deciding upon a 
purpose in life. God’s gift to Solomon was not al¬ 
together exceptional. He gives to most young men 
one great and solemn opportunity of choice. Hanni- 


3 ( 


bal, with his father’s favor, choosing eternal hatred to 
Rome, or Luther with his father’s anger entering a 
convent, are only examples, and whenever the mo¬ 
ment of choice comes it is a moment trembling with 
destinies. In this crisis our youthful friend did not 
hesitate. Wealth could not allure him; a life of pleas¬ 
ure was not to be thought of; ease and honor presented 
their claims only to be rejected ; but following the ex¬ 
ample of his great prototype, he made choice of wisdom. 
It was accordingly decided that he should go away 
to school. On the night preceding his departure 
from home, after he had retired to his room, his mother 
followed to counsel with him and give him her part¬ 
ing blessing. She found him on his knees, seeking 
guidance of the great Counselor and mighty God and 
everlasting Father. On the morrow he bade adieu to 
the old homestead and town, which virtually ceased 
to be his abode, although he delighted to revisit these 
scenes during vacation, and many a joyful reunion has 
the old hearth-stone witnessed as Thanksgiving day 
came round. 

It is the loss of such young men that these town¬ 
ships mourn. No wonder that the old hill-towns of 
New England seem barren and lonely. But let us 
remember that their leveled forests and disemboweled 
quarries are the crown of their glory, for they point 
us to the moral timber and granite characters which 
stand in all our marts as the bulwarks of liberty and 
righteousness. They are barren only because they 
have been so divinely fruitful. They are lonely as 
the hills of Galilee are lonely, because once trod by 


32 


the beautiful feet of Christ-devoted, truth-loving, 
heroic-souled men and women whose memory is the 
richest legacy we possess. 

Time does not permit us to follow our youthful 
friend in the pursuit of knowledge. While studying 
at Deep River in Saybrook, he entered zealously into 
Christian work and rendered valuable assistance in 
sustaining religious meetings. Here he received a 
fresh baptism of the Holy Spirit, and the great ques¬ 
tion of giving himself to the work of the gospel 
ministry was presented to him. The divinity in a 
man is determined by his choice of a supreme end. 
Heretofore we have seen in our friend the likeness of 
ideal manhood ; we shall now discover in him the 
image of God. 

Love overflowing his great heart combined with 
“ that hallowed supreme motive which men call duty ” 
decided, perhaps the most momentous question man 
is ever asked to decide, in the affirmative. Our 
lamented brother loved humanity. His heart went 
out in tenderness toward his brother man. When he 
would express his devotion to Christ and humanity, 
the only adequate gift he could offer was similar to 
the one Zwingle made to Erasmus when he exclaimed 
“ Poor as yEschines when each of Socrates’ disciples 
offered their master a present, I give you what 
^Eschines gave.I give myself.” 

He was twenty years of age when this high resolve 
was taken, and there were opposing obstacles which 
would have discouraged a less dauntless soul. His 
education was mostly before him and he had just dis- 


33 


covered that there is “ no royal road to learning.” 
Money was wanting, his studies must be often in¬ 
terrupted to enable him, by teaching, to secure means 
with which to continue them. But no hardship could 
blunt the edge of his determination. He bravely 
accepted the stern logic of the old Latin proverb, 
“ Quisque faber est suae fortunae.” Every man is 
the maker of his own fortune. 

After leaving Deep River, he studied at New 
Britain, Conn., and at Norwich Town and at Hollis- 
ton, Mass. At Norwich Town he was associated as 
teacher with Rev. T. D. P. Stowe in the first Normal 
School in Connecticut. He spent one year at the 
Harvard Scientific School. At the age of twenty-six 
he entered upon his theological studies. He was one 
year in the Seminary at Cambridge, one at the Theo¬ 
logical Institute of Conn., and two at the Union 
Theological Seminary, where he graduated in 1861. 
He thus gave four years to special preparation for 
the ministry. During this time he occasionally 
preached, especially in Eastford, a town adjoining 
his home. On the 12th of June, 1861, he was happily 
married to Miss Juliette Foster Hyde of Norwich, 
Conn., a young lady of rare intellectual culture and 
refinement, who proved a help-mate indeed, and contri¬ 
buted much to his future success One year before 
his graduation he received a call to the pastorate of 
the Congregational church at Fitzwilliam, N. H. 
This was at first declined, but on being renewed with 
great cordiality and unanimity it was finally accepted, 
on the condition that he should be allowed to devote 
a portion of his time to the completion of his studies. 


34 


When the great Augustine was asked to name the 
three principal doctrines of Christianity he answered, 
“ ist, Humility ; 2d, Humility ; 3d, Humility.” This 
Christian grace beautifully adorns his letter of accept¬ 
ance to this first pastoral charge. He says: “You 
have called to an important field of labor one whose 
years and experience will not warrant your indulgence 
in great expectations. Relying upon the grace of 
God in Christ to help my infirmities .... I will go 
in the strength of the Lord God.” 

This pastorate of six years was singularly happy. 
The dismissing council says : “ The relation between 
pastor and people has been characterized by an un¬ 
usual degree of mutual kindness and affection from 
the day of his settlement to the present time. ” 
Twenty-nine were added to the church on profession 
of faith and ninteen by letter. The present pastor of 
this church writes of him as follows : “No one was 
more ready to act in ministrations to the needy and 
suffering, say all.” The cause of popular education 
was dear to his heart. While at Fitzwilliam he was 
appointed by the Governor of the State, County School 
Commissioner, and served for two years, and the record 
is reported in four words, “ he did good service.” 

At the breaking out of the rebellion he zealously 
supported the government. Loving his country with 
a perfect love, hating slavery with a perfect hatred, 
with five brothers at the front and a patriotic ancestry 
behind, he plead with men to enlist, and with God for 
victory. 

On two memorable occasions when the soldiers 


35 


were about to leave for the war he preached to them 
with great eloquence and power. These sermons in¬ 
spired the soldiers, and were so helpful to the cause 
that they were published and widely read. As an 
index of the appreciation of his services daring the 
war, the surviving soldiers of Fitzwilliam on Dec¬ 
oration day in May last, requested him to deliver the 
address. He was greeted with a large and enthusi¬ 
astic audience. Rarely has a first and brief pastorate 
been crowned with such a record of achievements for 
the church, for education, and for the country. His 
next pastorate was at Nashua, N. H., where he was 
installed Dec. 31, 1877. After three years of suc¬ 
cessful labor in this field, he received and accepted a 
call to the first church in Meriden, Conn. His 
installation took place Dec. 22, 1870. During his 
ministry here of a little more than six years, ninety- 
one were added to the church, and “ he did a valuable 
work on the records, transcribing and reducing them 
to order.” 

Here he experienced a great sorrow in the death of 
his wife on the 17th of March, 1875. She was thought 
to be recovering from her illness. He had tenderly 
raised her on his arm and was in the act of giving her 
nourishment, when in an instant her heart ceased to 
beat and her head pillowed itself on his breast. The 
blow was too sudden and terrible even for his strong 
frame, and he sank down and remained unconscious 
for several hours. There is but one testimony to the 
character of Mrs. Gaylord ; she was not only an affec¬ 
tionate wife, a devoted mother of three now twice- 


3*5 


orphaned children, but she was possessed of marked 
intellectual and social endowments, which rendered her 
a wise counselor and an efficient leader in all parish 
work. 

In the fall of 1875 he began his work in Chicopee, 
having received a unanimous call to the third Church. 
His installation took place on the 15th of April fol¬ 
lowing. Here his qualities of mind and heart won for 
him a foremost place in the affections of the people. 
He came to them under a great “ baptism of sorrow ” 
with three children of tender years claiming his con¬ 
stant attention. In consequence of domestic cares he 
was obliged to forego his desire to be a house-going 
pastor as much as was his wont in former pastorates. 
But his ministry here has been crowned with success. 
One hundred and fourteen were received into the 
church during this pastorate of about seven years, of 
whom sixty-six were on profession of faith in Christ, 
an average of over nine per year, and many times 
greater than the average annual increase of our 
churches during this period. Surely those one hun¬ 
dred and fourteen souls are an answer to the request 
made in his letter accepting the call, “ Brethren .... 
pray that my coming to you may be in the fullness of 
the blessing of the gospel of peace.” With this pas¬ 
torate, terminated by his death, closed his ministerial 
work. 


CHARACTER AS A PREACHER AND PASTOR. 

As a preacher of the gospel, brother Gaylord dis¬ 
played signal ability, and often moved all hearts by his 


1 37_ 

eloquence. His discourse combined dignity with 
simplicity, gentleness with strength, sympathy with 
independence. He began slowly; and as he went on 
his soul gradually took fire and he forgot himself in 
the grandeur of his theme. 

He preached to save. Caesar ,says that he was 
once so pressed in battle that he fought, not as 
formerly for victory , but for life. Our brother 
preached for no victory other than the life eternal of 
his hearers. What beauty of holiness characterized 
his prayers ! So tender and simple, so trustful and 
reverent! His theology was conservative, but he 
never clung to a theory because it was old, nor 
rejected one because it was new. He was eminently a 
thinker; yet he knew better than most men where 
speculation ends and faith begins. Several published 
sermons and valuable articles fully justify this estimate 
of his powers as a preacher and writer. 

AS A PASTOR. 

He was greatly beloved as a pastor and friend. He 
will long be remembered as a wise counselor and a 
peace-maker. He was benevolent beyond his means. 
A poor woman lamenting his death, says, “ the last 
time he was at my house, when he shook hands to say 
good bye, he slipped four dollars into my hand and 
before I could thank him, he was gone.” During his 
ministry he received ten pastoral calls, most of them 
to prominent churches. This is a strong testimony 
to his character as a preacher and pastor. 


4 


38 


HIS RELIGIOUS CHARACTER. 

The ^devotional spirit distinguished his religious 
character. His faith was strong and cheerful. He 
had a profound reverence for God and sacred things. 
His Christian hope proved, especially amid trouble and 
darkness, an anchor to his soul. He delighted in the 
songs of Zion ; the hymn perhaps oftenest on his lips 
was—“ Jesus lover of my soul.” 

AS A CIVILIAN. 

Mr. Gaylord was an active citizen. He had the good 
of the community and the country at heart. In 1867 
he was a member of the New Hampshire legislature. 
He never carried politics into religion, but he never 
failed to carry his religion into politics. 

He was a Christian citizen as well as a Christian 
minister , but he never lowered his ministerial dignity 
or compromised his sacred office. In all his pastorates 
he made his influence felt outside his church and 
parish. A letter from the church in Fitzwilliam says : 

He urged forward public improvements here, for 
which he is held in grateful remembrance.” A rare 
piece of testimony is borne by a town officer of Chico¬ 
pee, who says : “ Mr. Gaylord always attended town 
meeting, and no man had greater weight in town 
affairs, if we except Mr. Robinson,” the distinguished 
citizen and congressman from Chicopee. 

MENTAL QUALITIES. 

A mind that could wield such influence both in the 
pulpit and in the forum, must have been well endowed. 


39 


The structure of his mind was doric rather than Corinth¬ 
ian. If he employed ornamentation it was only a 
means to an end. If a single text could express the 
one characteristic of his mental efforts, it would be the 
utterance of Paul to the Corinthians, “ I had rather 
speak five words with my understanding, that by my 
voice I might teach others also, than ten thousand 
words in an unknown tongue.” (i Cor. 14:19.) 

As, in money, weight is the basis of value, so in all 
intellectual values, weight was his standard, and all 
rhetorical inflation was mere rag-money. His mind 
was eminently judicial. He looked on all sides of a 
question, and his conclusions were not founded on 
an incomplete or partial induction of facts. This 
accounts for that wisdom and discretion which marked 
his utterances in the councils of his brethren. He 
was less bookish than reflective, and seldom mistook 
any tinkling symbol for the clear metallic ring of truth. 
Though charitable towards opponents he was inde¬ 
pendent. Thoreau once said, “ Any man more right 
than his neighbors, has a majority of one already.” 
We have seen our friend stand by his convictions of 
right in the face of a formidable majority. He had 
adopted a few first principles which were fundamental 
and immutable. To these every perplexing question 
was referred for solution. As a thinker, he was syn¬ 
thetic and constructive. He would gather up the 
scattered fragments of truth, and combine them in a 
harmonious whole. In every mental effort he first 
laid a foundation, then reared the superstructure. He 
never based a sermon pn its apex, or made a reason 


40 


follow its consequent. The title to one of his pub¬ 
lished discourses made during the war, is suggestive 
of his habit of striking at the root of all questions dis¬ 
cussed : “ The Foundations in Danger.” 

As a speaker he was impressive. Some might say 
more in a minute, but in half an hour they would be 
left behind. If he took long aim he generally hit the 
mark, and he never discharged blank cartridges or 
shot at random. His knowledge was not confined to 
the departments of theology and religion, but in civic 
and historical matters he was well informed. He was 
in 1870 elected a member of the New Hampshire 
Historical Society, and at the time of his death was 
a member of the Holland Club, a local historical 
society. 

A volume of his sermons, soon to be published, will 
fully vindicate this high estimate of his mental powers, 
and renders quotations, which we intended to give in 
our memorial, needless. 

It remains to speak only of our beloved brother in 
his social relations. Here we knew him best and 
loved him most. The present pastor at Fitzwilliam 
writes, “He is held in great respect here as an able 
preacher, but especially for his large heartedness.” 
He loved his fellow-men not only in general, but as 
individuals. To come near him was like coming into 
the sunshine. He had a vein of humor and an 
appreciation of wit which in spite of his dignified self- 
control often made his face twitch and his eye twinkle. 
Only those who knew him were aware of his extreme 
diffidence, which almost equaled that of Hawthorne. 


He said to a friend not long since, “I can hardly ever 
look my audience in the face till I hear the sound of 
my voice. Often when a boy, my mother sent me to 
the neighbors with an invitation to tea; without look¬ 
ing them in the face I would repeat what I had said 
to myself over and over again, ‘mother sends her com¬ 
pliments, and will be happy to have you take tea.’ 
Often when I face an audience and try to collect my 
thoughts* those words rush into my mind, and some 
time you will hear me saying in the pulpit, ‘ Mother 
sends her compliments, and will be happy to have you 
take tea.’ ” 

Notwithstanding this diffidence which was hidden 
under a masterful self-control, he dearly loved the 
society of his friends. With him, Christian fellowship 
was always sweet. He was interested in the forma¬ 
tion of this club. No one looked forward to its meet¬ 
ings with greater pleasure, or felt a keener interest in 
its success. 

Nothing shows the greatness and the kindness of 
his heart more than the fact, that in matters of opinion 
he could differ with a man without withdrawing his 
sympathies from him. This love toward man for his 
own sake, and for Christ’s sake, endeared him to the 
whole community. Around his death-bed strong men, 
not relatives, men whose eyes are unused to weep, 
bowed their heads and poured out their grief in tears. 

Just prior to his death, he had announced his in¬ 
tended marriage with Miss Mary F. Miner of New 
London, Conn., a lady of marked culture and refine¬ 
ment, and a consecrated Christian worker. His church 


42 


looked forward with great expectations to the coming 
among them of this, his chosen companion. The 
tenderest sympathy from all hearts is extended to her, 
who, having recently lost a father, is by this sad provi¬ 
dence doubly bereaved. 

The death of our brother may have been less sudden 
to him than to us. He had recently marked these 
lines: 

“ Lord it belongs not to my care 
Whether I die or live, 

To love and serve Thee is my share 
And this Thy grace must give.” 

On the fly leaf of a book of devotion, he had written 
this quotation : “ I have sat too long at the banquet of 
life; I will arise and go.” Not that he loved our 
banquet less, but the heavenly banqueting more. And 
surely there is no less of love, no less of life where he 
has gone! There our beloved brother awaits us. 
There he awaits his loved ones, and the church so 
dear to his heart. O what reunions there will be in 
Heaven! How his great heart will swell with joy, 
when he again clasps the hands of the two hundred 
and fifty-three brothers and sisters whom he has wel¬ 
comed into the church! “They that be wise shall 
shine as the brightness of the firmament, and they 
that turn many to righteousness, as the stars for ever 
and ever.” 

The announcement of his death fell like a pall over 
the entire community. His family and the church to 
which he was attached by the tenderest ties, were 
overwhelmed with grief. Every one who knew him 


43 


felt bereaved. At the funeral held in the church, a 
large concourse of people assembled, including many 
leading citizens of Chicopee and Springfield, the 
Knights of Honor, and several representatives of his 
former church at Meriden. Around his bier many of 
his brethren in the ministry gathered, and the tearful 
eye and sincere sorrow depicted on every countenance, 
were a silent but eloquent testimony of the unwonted 
love they bore him. 

Rev. D. H. Reed read appropriate selections for 
singing. Rev. F. M. Sprague offered the opening 
prayer. Rev. William E. Dickinson read the -scrip¬ 
tures, after which Dr. S. G. Buckingham made an 
interesting address respecting the history, work, and 
character of the deceased. He was followed by Rev. 
L. H. Cone, a former pastor of the church, who spoke 
with much tenderness of the deceased, and commended 
his three fatherless children to the prayers of the 
people; and wisely urged the impenitent to heed the 
earnest invitations of their pastor, whose lips were now 
silent; to seek Christ while it is called to-day. 

Dr. William T. Eustis then offered a touching 
prayer, full of comfort and hope to mourners and 
friends. After which, Rev. J. W. Harding pronounced 
the benediction. During the service, and at its close, 
the streaming tears and frequent sobs of the people 
testified to a depth of affection rarely subsisting 
between pastor and people. 

At Norwich, his final resting place, another service 
was held, conducted by Rev. Edward Bacon of New 
London, assisted by Rev. Chas. T. Weitzel of Norwich 


44 


Town. One end of the chapel was literally filled with 
blooming plants, and among the mourners were many 
who had known the deceased all his public life. Mr. 
Bacon preached “ a discourse rarely and richly filled 
with fine sentiment and touching pathos.” 

Brethren of the Club, in this brief study of the life 
and work of our deceased brother, we have felt with 
ever increasing force, that no element in character is 
more beautiful, no factor in life more fruitful of good, 
than unselfishness. It is the kohinoor among the 
jewels that stud the diadem of love. 

If we could crowd into a single word the virtues 
that adorned Brother Gaylord’s life, that word would 
be “ unselfishness; ” and on his tomb-stone we would 
inscribe in grateful recognition of his character, and of 
his faith, these words: “ I love, I have loved, I shall 
love.” We close with the lines of Whittier, suggested 
by a member of his church, which voice the feeling of 
every heart: 

“ All hearts grew warmer in the presence 
Of one who, seeking not his own, 

Gave freely for the love of giving, 

Nor reaped for self the harvest sown. 

Thy greeting smile was pledge and prelude 
Of generous deeds and kindly words; 

In thy large heart were fair guest-chambers, 

Open to sunrise and the birds. 

The task was thine to mould and fashion 
Life’s plastic newness into grace, 

To make the boyish heart heroic, 

And light with thought the maiden’s face. 


45 


Thy call has come in ripened manhood 
The noon-day calm of heart and mind, 

While I who dreamed of thy remaining 
To mourn me, linger still behind. 

Thine be the quiet habitations, 

Thine the green pastures blossom-sown, 

And smiles of saintly recognition 
As sweet and tender as thine own. 

Thou com’st not from the hush and shadow 
To meet us, but to thee we come; 

With thee we never can be strangers, 

And where thou art must still be home.” 










“ O Love Divine ! that stooped to share 
Our sharpest pang, our bitterest tear, 

On thee we cast each earth-born care, 

We smile at pain, while thou art near. 

Though long the weary way we tread, 

And sorrow crown each lingering year, 

No path we shun, no darkness dread, 

Our hearts still whispering, thou art near. 

When drooping pleasure turns to grief, 

And trembling faith is changed to fear, 

The murmuring wind, the quivering leaf, 
Shall softly tell us thou art near. 

On thee we fling our burdening woe, 

O Love Divine, for ever dear ; 

Content to suffer while we know, 

Living or dying, thou art near.” 


O. W. Holmes. 


SERMON I. 

“EMMANUEL.” 

Text, Matt, i, 23. 

“ And they shall call his name Emmanuel; which being inter¬ 
preted is, God with us.” 

Scripture Lesson, 1 John 1, and Luke 3, 1-9. 


I. 

In all the world of thought and of reason, nothing 
can be plainer than that the Bible is committed to the 
doctrine of the supreme divinity of the being who 
walked the hills and valleys of Judea, eighteen hundred 
years ago, and whose birth is celebrated throughout 
the world with loud acclaim to-day. 

More than seven hundred years before his birth, 
Isaiah (chap. 7, 14) wrote of him these words:— 
“ Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and 
shall call his name, Immanuel/’ 

Again, an angel appearing unto Joseph, a few 
months before the birth of this being, told him, “ that 
which is conceived in her is of the Holy Ghost. And 
she shall bring forth a son, and thou shalt call his 
name Jesus ; for he shall save his people from their 
sins,” all of which in the verse from which the text is 
taken, is further declared to be in fulfilment of the 
prophecy to which allusion has already been made. 

The meaning of the word Emmanuel is, “ God 
with us 

A mysterious fact confronts us, but fact neverthe¬ 
less, although veiled beneath inscrutable mystery. 
Eternal glory and majesty are laid aside. In the 
astonished presence of the heavenly host, the everlast¬ 
ing doors lift up their heads, and the King of Glory 
goes forth from the abode of righteousness and life 
immortal, to the far off regions of sin and suffering 


5i 


and strife, whose dwellers “ sat in darkness and in the 
shadow of death.” The mansions of the Fathers 
house were exchanged for the manger of Bethlehem, 
a life of privation, and the cross of Calvary. The Son 
of God stooped to earth that He might lift it up to 

Heaven. “ The word.dwelt among us,” says 

another evangelist, and in so saying, he makes use of 
the same word in the original, that in the Greek trans¬ 
lation of the Old Testament is used to express the 
abiding or tabernacling of the glory that overshined,— 
I think that is a more expressive word than over¬ 
shadowed ,—that overshined the mercy-seat in the Holy 
of Holies, the Shekinah, the symbol of the abiding 
presence of God with man. But here we have some¬ 
thing more. The symbol became the reality. The 
joyful but' tumultuous exclamations of those of Lystra 
when they said, “ The Gods are come down to us in 
the likeness of men,” had been more than realized, 
although they knew it not, in the birth of Christ, for 
He was the Immanuel, the very, true, and only God 
with us, and He was made “ bone of our bone, and 
flesh of our flesh,” and in all things, sin ever excepted, 
was He like unto His brethren. 

I shall mention this morning two of the purposes of 
our Lord’s incarnation. My remarks upon each will be 
brief, and therefore very far from exhaustive ; but they 
may, perhaps, by God’s blessing, serve to open up 
channels of thought which can to any extent be 
developed in your more private meditations. 

I. The Immanuel dwelt with men that he might 
give to the world a fuller revelation of God. Nature 


52 


has in all ages and in all lands spoken of God, and 
taught man to worship Him, but nature has never 
been able to get beyond a mere declaration of the 
existence of a Supreme Being. Her disciples must, 
perforce, erect their altars to the unknown God, and 
worship him in ignorance, and through the medium of 
symbols. Nature is powerless to expound the attri¬ 
butes of Deity. She cannot even, in the face of so 
much sorrow and suffering on every hand, go so far as 
to assert his unchanging and unchangeable goodness. 
She proclaims to us, with her ten thousand voices 
echoing through earth, and sky, and sea, that there is 
a God, but she can tell us no more. Here, then, is the 
province of revelation. From a world sitting in dark¬ 
ness there is borne upwards a cry whose burden is, 
“ More light ! more light! ” And the cry is heard, the 
petition is granted, and through the deep gloom of 
the shadow-wrapped land a voice resounds, “Arise, 
shine, for thy light is come! ” But the light came 
very gradually, the faint grey streaks of dawn before 
the meridian splendor, the indications in the golden 
clouds, and the upward-darting rays from behind the 
eastern hills before the appearing of the sun himself, 
dream, and vision, and angel, and prophet before the 
blaze of brightness on the glad night when the choir 
of heaven sang over the plains of Bethlehem the good 
tidings that the Sun of Righteousness had indeed 
arisen with healing in his wings, and that unto us was 
born in the city of David a Saviour, even the true and 
long looked-for Messiah. But the Christ came at 
length, and He told us of God in His doctrine. He 


53 


went farther than that, for he manifested God in His 
perfect life. He confirmed the teachings of the 
inspired messengers of heaven who had come before 
him. 

He did more than that even. He magnified a 
hundred-fold the light that through their instrument¬ 
ality had been shed upon the world. Some few, 
indeed, who- experienced a clearer revelation than the 
rest, had spoken of Jehovah as full of long-suffering 
and tender mercy, and ever attentive to the cry of His 
needy creatures ; but, to a very great extent, do His 
attributes, as presented to us in the inspired literature 
of the older dispensation, show Him to be a Being 
immutable in truth, perfect in wisdom, infinite in 
power, terrible in majesty, dwelling within the recesses 
of inaccessible light and glory—characteristics calcu¬ 
lated rather to awaken us to reverence than to inspire 
us with love. When Christ came, He, and He first, 
taught us that we, yes, we, with our sin-stained lips, 
might call upon God as “ Our Father who art in 
Heaven.” Thus a new relationship altogether, was 
not established but revealed between the Creator and 
the creature, and that connection which David faintly 
foreshadowed when he said, “ Like as a father pitieth 
his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear Him,” 
was shown by our Saviour not to be a semblance but a 
reality. And, lest in the aftertime some poor, doubting, 
repentant sinner should say despondingly to himself, 
“ Yes, God is my Father, but fathers are sometimes 
implacable and unrelenting; how know I that His 
justice will be so tempered with mercy that I who 
5 * 


54 


have been so vile and unworthy may dare to seek His 
forgiveness ? ” Christ has drawn for us, in one of the 
most beautiful and touching of His fadeless word- ► 
pictures, just the kind of Father that God is. Let the 
poor sinner, even though he be an outcast among the 
outcasts, and the very vilest among the vile, come to 
himself, as the prodigal did, and cry out in accents of 
true repentance, prompted by a heart full of remorse 
and sorrow, “ Father, I have sinned against Heaven 
and before Thee, and am no more worthy to be called 
Thy son,” and forgiveness is certain, absolutely 
certain J 

Ah ! but stay; there is more than forgiveness, there 
as reconciliation. Forgiveness alone is quite compati¬ 
ble with a resolution on the part of the offended one 
that he will have nothing more to do with the offender; 
■that there shall be no renewal of the terms of relation¬ 
ship that once existed between them. Not such is the 
nature of our Heavenly Father as revealed by Jesus 
Christ. Why, it seems that He cannot make e'nough 
of the wandering one when again restored to Him. 
When he is yet a great way off, He sees him (has He 
mot been watching for his return ever since he went 
.away ?), and He has compassion on him, and runs, and 
falls on his neck, and kisses him. And then, when 
He has led him safely home, and there is no fear that 
the erring one will ever again be successfully tempted 
to stray from His side, that good, kind, loving Father 
calls out to His servant, “Bring hither the best robe, 
and put it on him ; and put a ring on his hand and 
shoes on his feet; and bring hither the fatted calf, and 


55 


kill it; and let us eat and be merry : For this my son 
was dead, and is alive again, he was lost and is found.” 
That is the revelation which the Son has given unto 
us of the Father, and we know that His witness is 
true. 

And, oh ! in view of this blessed manifestation of 
the nature of God, in view of those fathomless depths 
of love, compassion, and mercy, displayed for the first 
time in all their fullness in the teaching of our blessed 
Saviour, in view of those tender terms of relationship 
which bind God to us as our Father, and which bind 
us to God as His dear children, and, therefore, make 
us joint heirs with Christ Jesus of all the riches of the 
Heavenly inheritance, I call upon you to let the 
fragrant'incense of thanksgiving arise from your 
hearts to Him who sitteth upon the throne, that He 
may see that you are not altogether unmindful of and 
ungrateful for His great goodness in decreeing that, 
in order to His fuller manifestation to the world, the 
Word Himself should be made flesh, and should dwell 
among us. 

II. The Emmanuel dwelt with men that He might 
bring life and immortality to light. 

We have seen the manifestation of God as our 
Father, and as a Father of infinite love and unbounded 
mercy. But we want something that goes beyond 
even God’s forgiveness and reconciliation. We want 
to understand His willingness to pardon us when we 
have done nothing, and are able to do nothing, 
adequately to atone for our guilt. And, moreover, we 
are “ dying men in a dying world,” and our thoughts 


56 


naturally turn to the hereafter, and we ask ourselves, 
u What will become of us after death ? ” “ Is death 

an eternal sleep, or is it the beginning of another 
life ? ” These are questions that apart from revelation 
we are wholly unable to answer. Even those to whom 
were committed the older oracles of God could have 
given no satisfactory explanation of them. Questions 
like these were ever upon the lips of the ancients, but 
the wisdom of heathen philosophy, profound as were 
its depths in many directions, was unable to solve this 
problem of surpassing mystery. Said Socrates, in 
view of his fast approaching dissolution, “ I hope to 
go hence to good men, but of that I am not very confi¬ 
dent ; nor doth it become any wise man to be positive 
that so it will be. I must now die, and you Shall live ; 
but which of us is in the better state, the living or the 
dead, God only knows.” In the case of the heathen 
sage the great enigma has long since been made plain, 
but the knowledge that he could attain only in death, 
it is our greater privilege to possess in life. The 
Word has been made flesh. He has abolished death. 
He has brought life and immortality to light. Let us 
glance very briefly at each of these supremely 
important facts. 

First, the-Lord Jesus has abolished death. What 
mean we by that? Not that he has put an end to 
natural death, for there has been no cessation for a 
moment of that endless, ever-moving procession of 
humanity from time into eternity. But Christ has 
abolished death in that through the glimpse He has 
afforded us of that which lies beyond death, the result 


57 


of what He has accomplished for us, He has robbed 
it of its terrors, and made it rather a thing to be 
welcomed than to be shunned. To the believer the 
closing of the natural eyes in this world, and the 
opening of the spiritual eyes in the world that lieth 
beyond, cannot be called death, cannot even be called 
sleep, beautiful as is the expression. Under the 
shadow of that mysterious decree, declared by Divine 
lips when first the curse of sinning fell upon our 
hapless race, every son and daughter of Adam has 
walked since time began, wondering if perchance its 
darkness would ever be lightened. “ Dust thou art, 
and unto dust shalt thou return.” So runneth the 
sentence pronounced by God in the infinite justice of 
His love, and that sentence must be carried out. But 
infinite mercy saw a gleam of light shining through 
the darkness, and forthwith seized upon the opportunity 
presented. We can, with no lack of reverence, as it 
seems to me, imagine Him to have said, “Although 
the death-penalty has been incurred, I will do that 
which shall seem to turn the very curse into a bless¬ 
ing. I myself will assume humanity. I will be born 
into the world. I will lay down my life a ransom for 
all who shall be willing to receive the great and end¬ 
less benefits that shall thereby be secured, and although 
all mankind must pass through the grave and gate of 
natural death, yet so efficacious shall be the sacrifice 
that I will make, so perfectly shall it operate to effect 
a reconcilation of man with God, that all who shall 
put their trust in me and in my work, all who shall 
unite themselves to me, shall be rescued from death 


58 




eternal, and shall experience, even as myself, a joyful 
and triumphant resurrection.” 

But we have one stage higher yet to go. We have 
seen, by the revelation of His own Son, that “ to the 
Lord our God belong mercies and forgiveness, though 
we have rebelled against Him; ” we have seen that 
God’s willingness to pardon our manifold iniquities 
has brought about that all-atoning sacrifice to accom¬ 
plish which “ the Word was made flesh and dwelt 
among men ; ” we have seen that by the mysterious 
offering of His own life , Christ hath indeed abolished 
that which alone merits the name of death. But, death 
having been abolished, the necessary inference is that 
life must remain, and to that life let us direct our 
thoughts. What says revelation about that life ? 
Shall it be endless in its duration, or shall there ever 
come a time when it shall cease, and when death shall 
again be allowed to exercise his baneful sway ? We 
should not have been content (with reverence let it be 
said) without an express declaration on this all-import¬ 
ant point in the Gospel of the Incarnate Word. But, 
thanks be to God, the full assurance has been given. 
“God so loved the world that He gave His only 
begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should 
not perish, but have eternal life.” But perhaps some 
of you will claim that the word translated “ eternal ” 
does not necessarily mean “ without end,” but rather 
“ ages of ages.” Be it so. I will not, because I can¬ 
not, contradict you ; but I can, and I will, point you to 
that portion of the inspired commentary on the life 
and work of our Lord wherein we read, “ Jesus Christ 


hath abolished death, and hath brought life and 
immortality to light.” That expression, “life and 
immortality,” is very remarkable. Its latter term is 
not synonymous with the former ; it means something 
more than mere life. Life might again be followed by 
death ; but here we have life and immortality. There 
is no getting over that, for the literal meaning of that 
word is, “ incapable of decay,” “ that which abideth 
forever.” 

This, then, is the sum of my message to you to-day. 
I tell you of a God who is also your Father, of a 
Father from whom ye were once afar off, but are now 
brought nigh, of a way of escape from a merited death, 
of a never ending life that is freely offered and only 
awaits your acceptance, and all this I am able to set 
before you because, for children of the human race, 
and for our salvation, in the fulness of the time, 
“ the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us.” 
May God give us all grace to accept the inestimable 
benefits which have sprung from Bethlehem's manger , 
so that of not one soul in this church to-day shall it 
be possible to be said, in the words of the evangelist’s 
sad lament, “He came unto His own, and His own 
received him not.” 


Christmas , 1882 . 





SERMON II. 

“KINDNESS.” 

Text, Col. 3, 12. 

“ Put on, therefore, kindness.” 

The whole verse reads : “ Put on, therefore, as the elect of 
God, holy and beloved, bowels of mercy, kindness, humbleness 
of mind, meekness, long-suffering.” 


6 




II. 


In nature, the end and crown of all its multiplied 
growth is its ripened fruit. And yet no sooner does 
life move within the plant, than it “ puts on ” robes of 
foliage which are to wave the summer-long in beauty, 
while its slower and more precious products mature. 
So in the Christian life there are graces of outward 
expression which should appear as the first symptoms 
of the renewed life, and should bloom in freshening 
strength till all the fruits of holiness are ripened for 
the heavenly garner. 

There are, then, some things in Christian character 
which are to be worn as outward adornments. They 
do not wait, like other qualities, the slow development 
of the inward life. They are not the result simply of 
long years of discipline and self-conquest, but they 
may be and should be worn as new habits from the 
outset of the Christian course. They belong to the 
expression and manners of religion ; to its outward 
activities, and its benign ir^luences on mankind. And 
though they also grow in grace and beauty with the 
whole growth of the religious life, they are to be 
“ worn as a garment from the beginning,” not as a 
transient covering, but as a fresh vesture fitted to the 
new man in Christ. It is true, indeed, that these out¬ 
ward’graces and ornaments of piety are not, in the 
highest sense, tests of Christian character. Character 
is to be known by its fruits, and not by its attire. It 


63 


is easier to be gentle than to be pure. It is more 
natural to be kind than to be holy. These external 
qualities of goodness which are to be put on, are not 
so much new creations in the character as they are 
discoveries and restorations of native qualities, which 
were lost and scattered in the fall. They exist in 
fragments in human nature at the worst. They are 
found in strange unison even with the inhumanities 
which are rife in modern heathenism. It is one office 
of Christianity to revive these lost and fragmentary 
instincts of good-will, and give them ascendancy over 
all the baser passions of our nature. This office it 
administers even in advance of its greater and saving 
work in the soul of man. Not only does it teach the 
disciples of the great Redeemer to “put on kindness,” 
but it enables human nature,—yet untouched by reno¬ 
vating grace, yet too ignorant to understand its deeper 
needs and hopes,—to rally its better feelings, to recall 
its lost instincts of good-will to its kind, and so to rise 
out of the gloom and degradation which have been its 
portion. 

Kindness is, radically, a genial recognition of our 
kind ; the out-going of a fellow-feeling ; the expression 
of an inborn sympathy, belonging to us all, as of one 
blood and history, one common heritage of need and of 
joy. This fairest rudiment of peace and good-will, 
which has well-nigh perished out of many souls, is 
brought out and made powerful by the gospel. Since 
these glad tidings have come, since that song of peace 
sounded out over Bethlehem, since the story of the 
cross has spread from lip to lip through many nations, 


6 4 


and the words and life of this Saviour have gone forth 
—no man can tell how far—the whole world has begun 
to be moved by the spirit of kindness. Whatever 
ascendency has been gained in our times to gentle¬ 
ness, courtesy, and kindness, is due to the benign 
influence of the gospel of Christ. It has reached out 
to bless multitudes who never yet have welcomed its 
great gift to their hearts. The fact that some of these 
outward excellences of character can be gathered and 
put on, even when the heart of man is unsanctified, 
.should lead the Christian to wear them in their highest 
grace and perfection. The fact that these can be worn 
as a mere convenience and comfort to mankind, 
perhaps sometimes as a disguise for selfish purposes, 
should incite every follower of Christ to give the 
loveliest and the most attractive expression to a true 
piety, that his Master may thereby be glorified. 

And this suggests my first remark, that so far as 
any character is unkind it is unchristian. 

Kindness may exist without Christianity, but 
Christianity can not exist without genuine and grow¬ 
ing kindness. There have, indeed, been individuals 
of much influence in the church of Christ who have 
been sadly deficient in gentle, winning traits. There 
have been communities and generations of men who 
have been called to stern services in Christian history, 
and have seemed to neglect and put off kindness for 
manners more rigorous and severe. Yet, both with 
the individuals and the communities, it must be 
confessed that, much as they have done for Christi¬ 
anity, they would have accomplished far more had 


65 


they been wise enough to combine with all their 
strength a fraternal kindness. Men do not always 
recognize Christian principle, even when pure and 
disinterested. It may be too bare and decisive to win 
their reverence, much less their love. They doubt its 
motives, and are repelled by its demands. But when 
it comes, just as strict and uncompromising, but 
clothed like Him who was truth, with expressive 
gentleness and sympathy, their opposition dies, their 
native unsubmission is soothed, and they reverence it 
and adopt it as their master. It is true, universally, 
that kindness adds nothing but strength to the strong¬ 
est character. It is still more true that it makes the 
best Christian more Christ-like. That is a totally 
wrong notion taken up by some good men, that if only 
earnestly engaged in the cause of religion, they may 
be rude or careless as to the lesser matters of inter¬ 
course with their fellow-men. Many a Christian 
teacher has absorbed himself so completely in the 
study of divine truth, has pored so incessantly over 
the themes of the .Gospel, that he has lost all capacity 
to express that Gospel in a winning behavior. He 
has gone about among men, honored for his truth, 
and admired for his learning, but loved for nothing, 
and powerless to attract a soul to the Saviour. Many 
a private Christian, through some petty pride, or what 
is* often the same thing, some false and morbid 
diffidence, has shrouded his whole life in an atmosphere 
of distance, through which never broke toward man or 
child one genial ray which warmed another heart or 
quickened another pulse to love or gratitude. Instead 
6 * 


66 


of putting on kindness, such men have put on indiffer¬ 
ence, and sometimes rudeness. They have unwit¬ 
tingly disguised their Christian character in a mean 
attire. Let us understand, that, whatever it be that 
hinders the free out-going of kindness from our life 
and manners, it is a contradiction of the spirit of 
Christianity. Kindness is a grace so common, so easy, 
and put on at so small a cost, that when it is missing, 
men will not usually look further for evidences of a 
Christ-like mind. Insomuch as we lack that, though 
Christians at heart, we are plainly unchristian. 

It is to be remarked again that kindness, though it 
be at first “ put on,” becomes itself a source of strength 
and nourishment to all our deeper and essential graces. 

Just as the spreading foliage of the tree not only 
stands for ornament and shade, but draws from sun 
and air by every leaf a proper nourishment, so all these 
outward activities of Christian feeling bring back to 
the heart their own return of life and strength. The 
chief resources of religious character and growth must 
come, undoubtedly, from inward communion with the 
unseen God. But it is still true that many a really 
devout life is made gloomy and useless for want of 
that refreshment which can come into the heart only 
through the channels of kindness which it has kept 
closed. 

There are, without question, native differences of 
temperament which tinge a Christian’s life. Some 
can give expression to their feelings more readily than 
can others. But all these diversities of gifts are 
trivial compared with the power we have to put on or 


6 / 


to suppress these out-goings of good will. There is 
many a genial nature which lies buried underneath a 
timid indolence or an evil education. And there is 
not a soul- so barren and unsusceptible, but it might 
with little effort wear an attractiveness and spread a 
glow of kindness all its own. How often is it true, 
that a character which has been cold and reserved for 
years, at last grows soft in age, and discloses a wealth 
of tenderness and joy never before unsealed. How 
often have those who seem to stand apart from all the 
sweeter fellowships of life, and to possess no faculty 
for expressing kind emotion, burst, in some hour of 
need, through all these conventional barriers, and have 
poured out floods of feeling and affection which no 
one dreamed they possessed ! And in these hours of 
out-spoken sympathy, their own nature has thrilled 
with a new life; their own hearts have leaped like 
prisoners set free. They have drunk from a long- 
forgotten fountain in the depth of their own hearts. 
They have grown rich with their own hidden treasure. 

Kindnesses are the golden coinage of man’s better 
nature, the currency of his affections, the outward 
token of all his inward charity and grace. He who 
will be a miser of such wealth, and hoard and hide 
that which was given him to dispense abroad, will 
suffer the fate of misers. He will be poor and narrow- 
hearted, unhappy and unloved. 

But passing by ourselves, we are bidden to be kind 
one to another chiefly that we may lighten the burdens 
of others' lives and multiply their love and joy. 

If we thoughtfully consider the most serious evils 


68 


which afflict our fellow-men, we shall find that the 
only sure relief which we can offer them is kindness. 
Mere physical ills can, indeed, be palliated and cured. 
Ignorance can be enlightened, and abject want can be 
partially supplied. But when we turn to those con¬ 
stant and universal forms of trouble which weigh 
down the soul of man, we have no cure to give. We 
can only offer our kind offices, our sympathies, and our 
prayers. Take sorrow, for instance; how helpless we 
are in every endeavor to remove its burden from 
another’s heart. We can “ weep with those who weep.” 
We can sometimes shelter them for a while from the 
intrusion of accustomed cares. We can lift up our 
supplications to our common Father for his consoling 
grace. But we can not alter a single event nor abate 
a single pang of grief which God has sent upon them. 
There are, moreover, sorrows so personal and peculiar, 
that they must be silently borne in the solitude of a 
single breast. We may not even speak our sympathy. 
Yet in all these desolations of affliction, there is an 
inconceivable solace in mere kindness. The truths 
which must be spoken to mourners are old and 
familiar. They may be feebly realized in the confu¬ 
sion of sorrow. But kindness is ever new and fresh 
and instant in its blessing. It changes nothing of 
another’s grief, but it affords an outlet for emotion. 
It leads to other thoughts and awakens other feelings. 
It wins some moments of forgetfulness. It rescues 
the mourner from that solitude in which he seems to 
stand before a chastising God, and assures him that 
he is but one of many who have suffered the same 



69 


discipline. In a thousand nameless ways it lightens 
those burdens which none of us could bear alone and 
live. The wisest instruction, the most consoling words 
of scripture, are often powerless in the shock of a 
great grief; but the consciousness of human sympathy, 
the kindness that hovers around us in simple and 
scarce-noticed acts of love, stays us, soothes us, and 
strengthens us to trust and to endure. 

But turn to other forms of evil which are more con¬ 
stant and universal even than afflictions ; the trials 
which spring out of the contrasts of earthly condition, 
the unequal distribution of wealth and knowledge and 
talent, the artificial separations which pride and selfish¬ 
ness have built up in society, the needless jars and 
enmities which rise out of mere self-will, out of ill- 
chosen friendships, or out of native incompatibilities 
of taste or aim. These, after all, make up the 
commonest and most wide-spread miseries of man¬ 
kind. These cloud more once happy days, alienate 
more once loving hearts, and make more lives bitter, 
than all the great calamities which smite a generation. 
And these are all incurable till we have “ put on 
kindness.” Many inequalities of our earthly lot are 
undoubtedly to be perpetual. The great extremes, 
indeed, of despotism and servitude are passing away 
before the enlightened civilization of the Gospel. But 
the contrasts of station and riches, of knowledge" and 
power, based as they are largely on native gifts and 
providential dispensation, will continue to the end of 
time. No political equality can prevent these wide 
distinctions in society. No laws can alter them. No 


70 


earthly power or teaching can prevent their generat¬ 
ing pride and indifference on the one hand, and envy 
and hatred on the other. This has been the tendency 
of every people and every age till checked by the 
nobler sentiments of Christian kindness. This tenden¬ 
cy appears even in our own land. Pride of birth, 
pride of wealth, pride of family, and all the snobbish 
pretensions of assumed superiority, are stealing into 
the hearts and lives of many who might have learned 
a better lesson, and, alas, of some who profess to be 
disciples of the lowly man of Nazareth. There are 
not a few, called by the name of One who made him¬ 
self of no reputation for our sakes, and taught by Him 
to esteem others better than themselves, who are 
unnecessarily anxious not to be confounded with 
common mortals, and to have it understood that their 
associations are select and rare. There are many 
unpretending Christians in every community who are 
made to feel, with unnecessary pain, their providential 
inferiority. There are many not Christians who, for 
this cause, are willing to doubt and to despise the 
exhibitions of a Christianity so belied. For all these 
contradictions and resentments Christian kindness is 
the one sure remedy. It will ultimately cure them. 
When high and low, rich and poor, all of every con¬ 
dition and endowment who are followers of Christ 
have put on kindness, these distinctions and contrasts 
will be neutralized. They will not be annihilated, but 
all their power to separate, to corrupt, or to wound, 
will be destroyed forever. 

Nor will the triumph of kindness be less signal over 


7i 


those forms of private suffering which spring from 
repulsions of taste or incompatibilities of temper. 
Friendship has seemed a mockery, and even wedded 
love has become a dream and memory. Let us touch 
gently this form of earthly desolation, but let us not 
deceive ourselves as to its frequency or bitterness. 
Think of those sad firesides where the love of early 
days flickers and fades like the dying embers, stifled 
beneath a proud self-will that cannot forget and will 
not forgive. Think of those cheerless dwellings 
where there is the form of happiness without its power\ 
where what were once but trivial misunderstandings, 
which kindness could have reconciled, have lingered 
and have grown, till voices and manner and life itself 
are changed, and the home is emptied of all its former 
love. Think of those households where mere neglect 
has done its gnawing work; where, without one 
material want unsupplied, or one thought of positive 
unkindness, years have passed on, in mutual toil and 
care, without one token of tender appreciation. There 
has been, in all these years, no smile of welcome, no 
kiss of parting, no word of fondness, no utterance of 
those old familiar phrases which won the early love, 
no sweet surprise of pleasure contrived far off by 
thoughtful regard, no watchful hand outstretched to 
lighten cares and labors grown heavier with advanc¬ 
ing years. A hard nature may contemn such small 
attentions as beneath its notice. A careless or 
absorbed nature may see no harm in such neglects. 
But a Christian nature will cherish these tokens of 
endearment, sacred as a marriage vow. It will suffer 


72 


no-blast of earthly care to blight these simple kind¬ 
nesses. It will watch rather to relieve the cares of 
others than to plead the engrossment of its own. It 
will live to help, to bless, and to cheer the hearts 
which God has put into its trust, nor count a word or 
action trivial which can increase their joy. Let no 
one say that kindness is a small duty, or an unworthy 
theme for our earnest meditation in the house of God. 
There are duties greater and more urgent for every 
soul which has not yet repented of sin and believed 
on the Son of God. There are themes which must 
oftener occupy us here. But there is no point of 
Christian duty so simple, there is no grace so easily 
attainable, there is no power for good so direct and 
wide, there is no right endeavor which, put forth in 
earnest, would banish from earth so much of wretched¬ 
ness, or bring in so much of joy. 

Oct . 21, 1864. 


SERMON III. 

“SATISFIED IN THE DIVINE LIKENESS.” 
Text, Psalm 17, 15. 

“ As for me, I will behold thy face in righteousness : I shall 
be satisfied when I awake with thy likeness.” 


7 


III. 


The seventeenth Psalm seems to have been com¬ 
posed during one of those seasons of affliction which 
overcast the summer of King David’s life ; when, 
perhaps, fleeing from the angry presence of Saul, 
hunted like a partridge in the mountains, wearied and 
oppressed with life, he sat himself down in the shel¬ 
ter of some cliff, and sang forth his soul’s longings to 
God. 

In the perusal of this Psalm it is very observable 
that the hope of the holy man was contemplating 
something not only better, but very different from 
anything the world bestows. It was not that he knew 
there were riches in store for him greater than those 
of his enemies ; nor was it an earthly distinction that 
should overtop and outshine the best honors of King 
Saul. He might have had this joy had he but looked 
forward to the oncoming years of his life when the 
outcast, David, should become the most exalted of 
Israel’s favored kings. But pomp, and pageantry, 
and regal -state were not objects of his soul’s coveting. 
The fervent spirit that moved him was the same as 
we hear breathing in the sweet strain of another 
Psalm—“ My soul hath a desire, yea, even a longing, 
to enter into the courts of the Lord—my heart and 
my flesh cry out for the living God.” “ Blessed are 
they that, dwell in thy house: they shall be still 
praising thee.” It is most evident the Psalmist’s 
desires were unearthly not only because they pointed 


75 


to a reward greater than the earth can yield, but be¬ 
cause they were of a kind not born of the earth. It 
was a delight, as purely spiritual as any we can con¬ 
ceive, when he exclaimed, “ I shall behold thy face in 
righteousness: I shall be satisfied when I awake in 
thy likeness.” I take it to be a very proper test of a 
renewed and converted mind that it longs for spirit¬ 
ual prosperity more than for all other joys. I can 
think of no characteristic so pure and no proof of a 
man’s piety so undeniable as that which makes him 
desire to go to heaven simply because God is there. 

I have chosen as our subject, to-day, “ The Chris¬ 
tian s satisfying portion!' It is found with God ; con¬ 
templating God ; being assimilated to God. “ I shall 
behold thy face in righteousness : I shall be satisfied 
when I awake in thy likeness.” 

The text evidently suggests this order of remark: 

1, The vision of God—“ I shall behold thy face.” 

2, Assimilation to God—“ When I awake in thy 
likeness.” 3, The satisfaction resulting from this 
state—“ I shall be satisfied.” 

First: The vision of God—“ I shall behold thy 
face in righteousness.” 

What is the vision of God ? Is it a vision of the 
natural eye? Shall we gaze upon Deity as we gaze 
upon the meridian sun ? Is there a quality that 
enfolds its nature in such a way that we can survey, 
with our bodily faculties, the illustrious presence into 
which we are ushered ? I think the question may be 
answered in the affirmative. We know that in heaven 
there will be the redemption of the whole man. We 


76 


are assured that, in the process of dying, we shall 
lose nothing but our mortality; that there shall be 
given us resurrection bodies, spiritual and undying, 
but bodies still; wearing the form of bodies, and en¬ 
dowed with all the faculties of human beings. If 
heaven be the home of the redeemed, it will be the 
home of their whole nature; and, as the Scriptures 
describe the many visible forms of glory and beauty 
there—angels and archangels, and all the bright hie¬ 
rarchy of heaven ; white robes and a bright throne, 
to be beheld in that resurrection state—may we not 
suppose that, if these forms shall be present to the 
eye, much more will there be an exhibition of that 
presence which makes everything in heaven beautiful; 
and without which heaven would be only like a dark 
pit ? If God is there—God, the head and substance 
of glory—will he not manifest himself in the efful¬ 
gence of his uncreated light ? Will not every eye 
instinctively turn to drink in the luxury of vision, and 
to gaze on the splendor of Jehovah manifested ? 

And I think this view of the matter is favored by 
another consideration. Heaven is represented to us 
as the scene of the loftiest adoration and worship, 
and hence there must be found there all the facilities 
for the intensest devotion. We know how any affec¬ 
tion of the soul is enlivened by the presence of its 
object. The calm flow of habitual love is often quick¬ 
ened to a rush when the one who is beloved stands 
unexpectedly before us in person. The admiration 
that was stirred by a poet’s song shall be immeasura¬ 
bly deepened when we go and stand in the midst of 


77 


the scenes he has described. The laws of our im¬ 
pulses seem to require that, in order to the deepest 
emotion, there must not only be a deep sensibility, 
but a sensible object. Now, when our human nature, 
with all its faculties woven about it like a tissue, is 
exalted to heaven, will not the same principle hold 
good ? Will not this law of our humanity be as valid 
and operative there as here ? 

And in order that we may enjoy the best rapture of 
devotion, will it not be in a measure necessary that 
the object our souls adore shall be manifested to the 
eye; so that the entire humanity shall be engrossed, 
and the outward as well as the inward man shall bestow 
its faculties and find its delight in the contemplation 
of God’s glory ? 

Yet this is, after all, the lowest view of heaven. 
Refined as our senses may be, they will still be sub¬ 
sidiary to the yet more refined soul. Must there not 
be in heaven the same correspondence and relation 
that now subsist between the spirit and body in every 
renewed man and woman ? The soul shall always 
have the pre-eminence. The body shall be always its 
minister to serve it. I suppose that when the Psalm¬ 
ist speaks of beholding God’s face, he has a higher 
meaning than this. Is there not a sense in which the 
soul itself shall behold God ? Just as the eye will 
survey his natural glories, why may not the soul have 
a vision of its own, by which it will contemplate the 
intellectual and moral aspect of Jehovah ? 

This view will not be contested by any one who 
would disrelish the grossness of a Mohammedan 
7 * ' 


;8 


heaven, or the tameness of an Arcadian paradise. 
We know that the chief excellence of Jehovah must 
be, and is, something more and better than a material 
splendor. We might guess that the Infinite Spirit 
would not be content with an outward brightness 
when he had only to put forth the volition of his 
moral nature to make the universe bow down before 
the ineffable splendor of the perfect Godhead. 

And these conjectures are strikingly in accordance 
with the Divine revelation of himself. 

I realize that we are trenching upon ground that is 
not all our own. We are coming nigl} the limits 
where human faculties halt, and are obliged to confess 
themselves beggared and broken down. When we 
start such questions as, How shall the soul look upon 
vthe absolute and abstract qualities of God’s moral 
nature ? how will our mental operations differ, when 
we come into the presence of the Almighty, from the 
manner of their exercise on earth ? we are obliged to 
confess that they cannot be fully answered. If any 
of us had been drilled in this exercise of glory, he 
could not describe it so that it could be realized and 
understood by another, any more than the bat can 
understand why the eagle is not blinded when he 
soars into the sunlight. 

Yet the subject is not without its instruction in 
this very respect. You have only to suppose your 
faculties dilated, and lifted up indefinitely; and you 
may then hope, at least, that it will be possible for 
vthe soul directly to contemplate God, as the source 
.and fountain of all mental and moral excellence. We 


79 


can see, also, that such a vision of the Godhead must 
be most ennobling. Here we are blessed, with the 
revelations of him, which are only partial and frag¬ 
mentary. God is in the universe, but we must travel 
over the universe to learn the extent to which his 
disclosures run. We find one attribute here, and 
yonder we find the footsteps of another. Now it is 
wisdom, then it is power, and again goodness, and jus¬ 
tice, and truth ; and from these scattered workings 
of God we may combine a notion of his whole essen¬ 
tial character, and learn that God has a path in this 
world in which he walks. But these, after all, are 
only the hidings of Deity. It is God we see, but it 
is a God who concealeth himself; our present appre¬ 
hension of him is just enough for proof. Our whole 
knowledge is only deduced and inferential. We sup¬ 
pose what God is, by seeing what God does. 

But shall it be so in heaven ? I understand a 
stronger meaning to be wrapped up in the expression, 
“Beholding God.” It seems reasonable to suppose 
that the soul shall then, by an intuition, as if it had 
an eye, gaze directly at the attributes of God, and not 
at the remote workings of those attributes. It shall 
look upon those attributes assembled, and not one by 
one; and instead of admiring the scattered glory of 
God’s particular dealings, shining like different stars, 
we shall stand before the concentrated splendor of 
his moral perfection, and not be overpowered nor dis¬ 
mayed. We shall not have to say as we now say, of 
the Almighty, “This work is mighty, that plan is 
wise, these dealings are right, and God’s word is 


80 


truth ; ” for it is not the separate acting out of these 
qualities; it is their repose which we shall see, when 
they are gathered together, as to their home in God. 
We shall see the very truth itself, and righteousness 
itself, and eternal wisdom, and power, and love, in 
their perfect essence, and in their continued splendor. 
Nay! we shall see God, i. e., not only these attributes 
of his excellency, but God, the substantial Diety, 
more full, more excellent than the qualities which he 
puts on like a garment. Him shall we behold, if we 
are true to our calling; Him, who is the eternal sub¬ 
stance of glory, and who makes all his attributes 
glorious, by uniting them to himself. We shall see 
him, and beholding his face in righteousness, we shall 
be satisfied. 

But it is time to proceed to the other topic, asso¬ 
ciated with this vision of God, viz.: assimilation to 
him ; being made in his likeness—“When I awake in 
thy likeness,” says the Psalmist. 

We are not of course to understand this expres¬ 
sion absolutely, and in its widest meaning. To be in 
likeness of God cannot signify to be like him in his 
essential nature, or in his infinite attributes ; for it 
may be very forcibly questioned whether there could 
be two infinite beings, and not less reasonably, 
whether a certain creature could be made infinite by 
the power of any other being. There must be cer¬ 
tain attributes of the Godhead which cannot be com¬ 
municated to another; both because some attributes 
can be possessed by only one, and because, if 
bestowed, the nature of the created thing would not 


8i 


be capacious enough to hold them. There are quali¬ 
ties of the Deity which may be communicated to his 
creatures, and which his creatures may receive; not 
in such a way as to make them infinite, but in such 
a way as to fill the larger measure of their natures 
with a most rich and happy grace. 

We know, for example, that God may impart to the 
soul of his child a portion of his own benevolence; so 
that the regenerated man shall exhibit the gentleness, 
and tender-heartedness, and generosity, and self-sacri¬ 
fice of love unfeigned. 

And we know that the Almighty Giver may change 
the natural heart of sin, and fill it with such a love of 
righteousness ; such purity of the moral sense; such 
a hatred of sin, even in the thought, that you may 
# say, “ There is the image and likeness of God.” 

And this is always the case in regeneration, yet 
always in a limited degree. The likeness of the 
regenerate to God is, in this life, disfigured and 
obscure. There is, in a renewed soul, the longing 
after higher degrees of holiness, and a growing dis- „ 
satisfaction with merely worldly enjoyments. Yet 
this feeling constantly labors against the inborn pro¬ 
pensity to sin. Sometimes the casual propensity 
conquers, and sometimes the upward tendency of his 
new nature. Many an agony does the child of God 
endure from this inward battle of the old and the 
new natures. Many a groan of mental suffering has 
reached God’s ears, when he has watched the strife 
of his beloved one wrestling with sin. How often 
have tears of piety gushed forth, because the heart 


82 


had yielded so easily to the world, the flesh, or the 
devil; and the cry of anguish and despondency 
broken out, when the Christian looked upon himself, 
“O, wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me 
from the body of this death ! ” 

In this life, then, we cannot say there is a perfect 
assimilation of the soul to God ; but there will be a 
completed likeness in heaven. There the tendencies 
of piety will be matured,—the scars of sin, vile deface¬ 
ments upon the soul, will be obliterated. Nothing 
that defileth shall any longer cleave to the new 
creature; and as he walks forth in the streets of the 
New Jerusalem, the pearly gates, the shining robes of 
salvation, and the bright glory of God and the Lamb, 
shall be only the proper accompaniments of his state 
and condition as a child of God, the living likeness of 
his Father. 

But let me call to your notice the connection of this 
topic with the other just now discussed. The language 
of the text seems to imply, that the Soul’s likeness to 
God is somehow influenced by the vision of Him ; as 
if the sight of God had such a transforming power as 
to change the soul into His o\Vn image. After the 
same manner, the Apostle expresses himself: “ Beloved, 
now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet 
appear what we shall be; but we know that when He 
shall appear, we shall be like Him, for we shall see 
Him as He is.” The vision and the likeness are 
obviously connected, as cause and effect. God is 
beheld. The beholder becomes filled with God. As 
the mirror sheds back the light, as if itself were light; 


83 


as the wax shows the true image of the seal; as the 
man who is familiar with fine models of character, and 
has discoursed much with noble sentiments, becomes 
himself noble-minded and upright; so will the presence 
of Jehovah’s moral glory shine back from the Chris¬ 
tian in heaven ; so will you see the stamp and impress 
of God upon his soul; so will his affections grow 
utterly pure, from this divine communion. His piety 
shall fasten itself on God’s own presence, and shall 
never waver any more, and his will shall fall in and 
flow on with the current of God’s will, so that there 
shall be no antagonisms, and you may well believe 
that the moral nature of that restored sinner is in the 
very likeness of God. 

Thirdly: We were to speak of the satisfaction 
resulting from the vision and likeness of God, as our 
third topic. “ When I awake with Thy likeness, I 
shall be satisfied.” I take this to be the very expres¬ 
sion that signifies a perfect bliss. If I were desired to 
point out the language that should denote a delight, 
totally different from any in this world, I should select 
this one word, “ satisfaction.” “ Excitement ” can be 
had from ten thousand sources, here on earth; exhil¬ 
aration is not an uncommon state of feeling; a sort of 
tumultuous rapture , you may find in many scenes and 
passages of human life ; but a perfect satisfaction and 
repose, you have never found, nor heard of, beneath 
the skies. Times change, pleasures change, and we 
change ; and there is no rest to'the mind, and when 
there is no rest, there is no consciousness of enjoy¬ 
ment. The excitements of human life spring mainly 


8 4 


from hope—the desire of something we have not, so 
that our whole career is a constant reaching forward 
for something to satisfy our craving. Uneasiness is 
the universal experience of the human condition. 
Who can say that uneasiness is bliss ? You cannot 
suppose such a state of things in the presence of God. 
The joy of beholding God, and being in his likeness, 
is a present joy ; a good already in possession ; deep 
and large as the soul can contain. “ Filled with the 
fullness of God,” is the Apostle’s expression most 
significant of a complete satisfaction. 

I just now spoke of some of the sorrows of the 
Christian ; and I glance again at the subject, because 
it goes further to show why immortal glory may be 
called satisfaction. I spoke of the Christian strug¬ 
gling with sin and Satan. Satan and sin assail him 
in a thousand forms. Sometimes when the child of 
God is drifting on the sea of troubles, and wave after 
faave rolls over him, till he is ready to sink, there will 
rise up in his heart the spirit of a rebellious complain¬ 
ing. He will turn up his eyes to God, as if he would 
remonstrate against the discipline. “ All Thy waves 
and Thy billows are gone over me.” “Is it thus that 
Thy children are treated ? ” “ Wilt Thou never stay 

Thy hand, O God ? Wilt Thou crush Thy worm to 
death ? ” I will say nothing in extenuation of such a 
state of feeling ; but mention it only to say, that in his 
exaltation to the presence of God, the Christian will 
see the reason for the dispensation; the perfect, 
resplendent righteousness of God’s dealings. His 
blindness will be made light, and of his discontent he 


85 


will be ashamed. He has seen God. He has been 
instructed in the Divine plans. He is charmed with 
the fitness of his own dark, bitter trials. He looks up, 
and with childlike gratitude and tenderness exclaims, 
“ I am satisfied .” 

I might travel through the details of a Christian’s 
doubts, fears, hopes, surmises, and trials, and show 
that they shall be scattered in heaven. I might touch 
upon the many subjects into which human curiosity, 
whether reverent or criminal, has thrust itself; the 
permission of moral evil, the prosperity of the wicked, 
the casting down of the church. We are in a 
labyrinth of dark wonders here ; we shall be in a vast 
plain of brightness and knowledge when we behold 
God,—“ When we awake in his likeness, we shall be 
satisfied ” with all that he has done. 

But there is one transcendent theme that now 
moves the deep curiosity of every soul whom Christ 
has washed with his saving blood, to which we ought 
to give attention before closing. It is a theme to 
which the world gives little heed. But the angels 
desire to look into it. It was a most profound deep to 
^ St. Paul, when he exclaimed, “ Oh , the depths ! ” and 
we think the more we are like God, the more will the 
subject engage and captivate our minds. That theme 
is Redemption. We know something of redemption 
now. We know its facts, but not all its principles and 
springs. A Saviour died, we know, for an apostate 
world. He was God, miraculously incarnate. He 
lived and died, as the world says, most ignobly; but 
not in vain. He came on a gracious errand. He 
8 


86 


discharged his mission completely. The salvation he 
wrought out and finished is a wonderful salvation ; and 
by means of it lost souls have been snatched from 
the very brink of perdition, and made heirs of God. 
These are facts that we know; and we know the 
grand motive that projected the plan,—-love, Divine 
love, infinite tenderness, and compassion for the 
guilty ! We cannot measure it now, nor shall we be 
able to fathom it thoroughly hereafter. But the 
ineffable feeling, the joy unspeakable and full of glory; 
the utter satisfaction of the soul, will doubtless then 
be found in beholding the length, the breadth, the 
depth, the height of God’s love for sinners. Where- 
ever we gaze, there will be love ; for God himself is 
love, and in the likeness of that love we shall come 
somewhat into likeness to God, and we “shall be 
satisfied .” 

But now what need we say more, although we have 
not yet developed a tithe of the matter of this high 
discussion. Yet it is time to close this discourse, with 
a word of admonition. You see the importance and 
dignity of a soul. Some treat it as though it had 
little worth, and no immortality. They pamper the 
senses, but starve the spirit. You perceive they are 
defrauding themselves of their immortality. You see, 
again, the indispensableness of the new birth in order 
to see God in his kingdom. Yet you will find persons 
who would shudder, if they were obliged to behold 
Him face to face; and who crowd their life with all 
manner of occupations and pleasures to shut out the 
thought of Him from their minds. They are as near 


37 




eternity as you and I ; and the next meal, the next 
ride, or the next east wind, may bring them to their 
death. Their present life is the seed of their eternal 
existence. They plant indifference, they will gather 
torment. They sow to the wind, and they will reap 
the whirlwind. But they care not for it, and if you 
urge them by the satisfying glories of eternity on the 
one hand, and by its miserable absence on the other, 
they will not heed you, nor turn out of their way to 
save their souls. You may pray for them. You may 
weep for them ; but if they continue to disregard the 
beckoning voices of divine and human love, they can 
only be “ filled with their own desires,” and they must 
part with you at the gates of glory. And now my 
dear Christian friends, are your hearts ready to 
behold God ? Are your desires heavenward ? Think 
often of your inheritance, and how you will spend 
your eternity. As you improve your privileges, so 
will your glory be. You cannot deny Christ here and 
enjoy him there. You cannot prefer the world now, 
and be satisfied with the dikeness of God hereafter. 
The same heart you have on earth, you will carry to 
your eternal home. Keep it pure then from all 
filthiness of the flesh. For only the pure in heart 
shall see God. And if any of you are seeking consola¬ 
tion under trial, remember the vision of God. You 
shall be with Him, and He shall wipe away your tears. 
You shall behold Him and understand why you are 
afflicted. You shall awake in His likeness. 


June 2 6, 1880. 






































































*■ 












































































SERMON IV. 


“REST AWHILE.” 

Text, Mark 6, 31. 

“And he said unto them, Come ye yourselves apart into a 
desert place, and rest awhile : for there were many coming and 
going, and they had no leisure so much as to eat.” 


8* 



IV. 


I. Rest needed. 

(i.) The apostles had just returned from their 
arduous and exhausting labors, and, like tired work¬ 
men, they needed rest. They had not only done their 
work, they had done it well. And with that elation 
which is the natural effect of triumphant effort, they 
told Christ “ all things, both what they had done and 
what they had taught.” 

Men need rest after any kind of work, but more 
especially after eminently good work. Success begets 
excitement, and excitement exaggeration, an over¬ 
estimate of the past, and a too sanguine view of the 
future. Excitement, too, involves reaction; and if 
men, in the eagerness of their enthusiasm, resume 
work too soon, they can only do so with exhausted 
energies, and failure and disappointment must inevita¬ 
bly result. And so the Master saw that time was 
required that the disciples’ feelings might subside ; 
that they might form a sober and accurate measure¬ 
ment of what they had done and still had to do; that 
they might learn deeper truths and wiser methods 
from his teachings and example ; and that they might 
collect and brace their energies for the coming time. 
Therefore said he, “ Come ye yourselves apart into a 
desert place, and rest awhile.” 

(2.) But the need for rest arose from another cir¬ 
cumstance. The fatigued disciples, as soon as they 
returned from their already sufficiently exhausting 


9i 


employments, found themselves plunged into the 
midst of those busy scenes of which Christ was ever 
the source and center. “ There were many coming 
and going, and they had no leisure so much as to eat.” 
Who does not know the worry of coming from a 
journey, and find business waiting that must be trans¬ 
acted forthwith ? 

And, indeed, what is the greater part of life but a 
constant succession of engagements ? A perpetual 
“coming and going,” leaving us, not seldom, “no 
leisure so much as to eat.” The office is hardly 
closed, the shop is scarcely shut, and the tools laid 
aside, before we feel the pressure of the claims of 
family and friendship. These are no sooner dis¬ 
charged than we are overwhelmed with duties which 
we owe to society or to the general public by virtue 
of our citizenship. And it is in vain that we seek rest 
in the midst of all these comings and goings. To 
get that we must break directly away. And so our 
Lord saw that the ebb and flow were not likely to 
cease while he, the great cause of it, remained where 
he was, and that rest could only be obtained by prompt 
departure. So he said, “ Come ye yourselves apart 
into a desert place, and rest awhile.” 

(3,) There was yet another reason for rest, viz., 
the disquieting news which had reached them of the 
murder of John the Baptist—Chap. 5, 7-29. Some 
of you may know what it is, after coming home tired, 
and while adjusting matters for which you have had 
to postpone even eating and drinking, to open a letter 
containing information which incapacitates you for 


92 


eating, and drinking, and business, and everything 
else—the death of some dear friend, the failure of 
some good cause, the commission of some flagrant 
and irremediable wrong, the miscarriage of some 
hopeful enterprise. Anything of this kind, at any 
time, weights life heavily. Faint, and weary, and sick 
in spirit, we feel the uselessness of any further strug¬ 
gle for the present. Rest and change become impera¬ 
tive for the aching head and throbbing heart. Was 
it not with some such feelings that the man Christ 
Jesus said to his dejected brethren, “ Come ye your¬ 
selves apart into a desert place, and rest awhile ?” 

II. Rest provided. 

Christ was, and still is, regardful of. the bodily 
infirmities and the mental weaknesses of his disci¬ 
ples. He is the maker of the body and the mind. 
He “ knoweth our frame, and remembereth that we 
are dust.” Once wearied and discouraged himself, 
he is “ touched with a feeling of our infirmities,” and 
does not forget that we need repose. 

(i.) You will notice that the rest to which the 
apostles were invited was not provided in response to 
a request from them. It was perfectly spontaneous 
on the part of the Master. He saw their need. That 
was enough. The supply was ready to meet that 
want before the disciples could shape it into words. 
And that is always Christ’s way. He “prevents,” 
anticipates us “ with the blessings of goodness.” Man 
in his folly would burn the candle at both ends ; but 
Christ says, “ No, you shall not quite do that;” “ so 
he giveth his beloved sleep.” 


93 


Man, if he might and if he could, in his insane 
passion for gain, would work on unceasingly ; but our 
Maker says, “ No, that is not good for you. One day 
in seven is absolutely necessary for the repose and 
recuperation of the jaded faculties.” Therefore “ the 
Sabbath was made for man.” And so the summer 
holidays are the provision of your Brother, Christ. 

One hundred years since a vacation was unthought 
of and unneeded. There was then vastly less friction 
in business, less competition, less demand. Life bore 
no such strain then as it does now. The air of our 
great cities was purer, and a few minutes’ walk took 
people into the country. 

Now all is changed. Men live fast, and are often 
obliged, in a deleterious atmosphere, to crowd two 
days into one. 

The times change, but Jesus Christ does not 
change. He is the same to-day, yesterday, and for¬ 
ever. And, as new needs arise with changeful times, 
there are ever new provisions to meet those needs. 
Increasing trade necessitated quicker modes of tran¬ 
sit, and the discovery of steam, as applied to locomo¬ 
tion, met that need. 

This again prodigiously developed trade, and put 
a heavier burden upon men’s shoulders, but it also 
made possible a trip to the seaside to relax the ten¬ 
sion, brace the nerve, and build up the health and the 
strength—a thing altogether out of the question a 
hundred years ago. You may call this the progress 
of civilization. I call it the outcome of Christ’s 
thoughtfulness for man. 


94 


(2.) The rest which Christ provided for His dis¬ 
ciples was exactly suited to their needs, and divinely 
effective for their relief. They were invited to fresh 
scenes. What is wanted by most of us is not simply 
rest, but change; change of air, change of living, 
change of surroundings; something that shall break 
the monotony of our daily tasks and experiences, and, 
for the time being, set the thoughts and the feelings 
on a different plane. 

The disciples, again, were invited out of town, away 
from the bustle of city life, into a desert place where 
no coming or going was likely to weary them. This 
desert place was also out of Herod’s jurisdiction, and 
here, if anywhere, they would be able to forget their 
recent troubles and the tyrant’s power, and to receive 
effectual consolation from Christ. 

(3.) You will likewise notice how unostentatious 
this invitation was. Their Lord proclaimed no 
“ retreat ” requiring some elaborate preparation. As 
soon as He saw that His disciples needed rest, He 
quietly whispered, “ Come ,” and the disciples, with 
equal simplicity, followed Him. Half the end of a 
holiday is defeated by the fuss and bother which some 
people make in getting away. Where shall we go? 
How shall we go ? What shall we take to wear? 
These, and questions of a similar nature, are the fruit¬ 
ful source of such debate and anxiety that a great 
measure of the comfort and health-giving effect of a 
season of rest is utterly destroyed. The Master’s 
invitation is as simple and gentle to-day as it was 
eighteen hundred years ago. There is a dull, mo- 


95 


notorious ache about your head, my friend, which 
becomes growingly unpleasant; or your pulse is beat¬ 
ing a little faster than usual, and there are feverish 
symptoms, and a languor that is beginning to make 
life oppressive.; or there is a nervous irritability, a 
sleeplessness, a loss of appetite, an incapacity for 
sustained action ; or that dread malaria is alternately 
freezing you to an icicle, or shaking the very life out 
of every muscle, bone, and nerve. All these are 
divine whisperings equivalent to the ancient invitation, 
“ Come ye yourselves apart into a desert-place, and 
rest awhile.” Would that men would listen and obey 
as simply as they can, ere God, in the thunder of 
some great affliction, says, “ Go.” 

III. Rest disappointing. 

It was not so easy to find the retirement to which 
this invitation seemed to point. The multitudes, to 
whom Christ had been ministering, went on foot and 
outran the party. So when the disciples arrived at 
their destination, they found fresh work awaiting 
them. Seclusion is not absolutely necessary to rest, 
and may, indeed, be inimical to it. If a man has 
nothing in particular to do or to think about, old 
scenes and worriments will crowd upon him- with 
augmented force. Our Lord seemed gratified to 
meet these throngs at the beginning of the holiday; 
and regarding them as presenting a great and blessed 
opportunity, the compassionate Christ began at once 
to supply the needs of shepherdless Israel, and to 
“ teach them many things.” The apostles, however, 
took a different view of the matter. It gave rise to a 


96 


feeling of disappointment and dissatisfaction, which 
grew into impatience, at their Master’s action; and 
after waiting, no doubt in hope of the withdrawal of 
Christ, or the dismissal of the multitudes, at last they 
came to Him and ventured to suggest that “the time 
had far passed.” They knew that Christ would not 
long remain in this out-of-the-way place, and that if 
this kind of thing lasted much longer, their vacation 
would be considerably abridged. And so they vented 
their disappointment in a half-petulant dictation, ill- 
concealed by sentiments of spurious philanthropy, or 
by a sense of an overburdening and needless anxiety. 
“Send them away, that they may go into the country 
round about, and into the villages, and buy them¬ 
selves bread; for they have nothing to eat.” “ Do 
you call this rest ? Is it for this that we have left the 
toils and the anxieties of the other side ? Why, there 
is as much to do here as in Galilee. And, further¬ 
more, this is a desert-place, and the people now begin 
to want what we cannot give them. Dismiss them, 
that they may go where their needs can be supplied.” 

And, I suppose, my friends, that we often find our 
ideas of rest ruthlessly dissipated. We say good-bye 
to business, and study, and other cares, and think 
when we get away from them we shall be liberated 
for the enjoyment of perfect rest. But there is no 
healthful and perfect rest that does not include the 
contact of life with life, the awakening and response 
of sympathy and affection, and best of all the minister¬ 
ing to the comfort and happiness of others besides 
ourselves. That man is not more than half blessed 


97 


who in his days of recreation does not have either 
child or friend, or needy fellow to whom he may be a 
minister of the good which God has bestowed upon 
him that he may become the almoner of a divine 
bounty to other hearts. Especially is this true of the 
contact of our older lives with those that are younger. 
That man is to be pitied who cannot feel the drawing 
out of the best life of which he is capable by the 
presence and contact of childhood. I would as soon 
think of recreating without my daily food as without 
the presence of children. Every effort to recreate 
them is always paid back an hundred fold. Watch 
them, draw them out, play with them. If you have 
no children of your own, you had better borrow some 
rather than lose the benefit of their presence. After 
ten or eleven months’ contact and struggle with the 
world, the flesh, and the devil, get as much as you c-an 
out of the society of fresh, young, innocent, and 
buoyant lives, and you will go back like giants 
refreshed. 

IV. Rest enjoyed. 

The Christ whose Father worketh hitherto, and 
who still works Himself, never intended His disciples 
to lounge away their rest in idleness. And the rest 
to which he invites us is not inactivity. Time is too 
precious always and everywhere to be frittered away. 
You have not done with employments when you go 
home from business for the night. When you retire 
from it altogether, urgent claims will still demand 
unremitting attention. And so, if you want to enjoy 
a rest, you will need in some measure to contribute 
9 


98 


to the good of others. At no time will you find true 
rest but by wearing the yoke which is easy, and bear¬ 
ing the burden which is light. The rest of the dis¬ 
ciples on the occasion before us : 

(i.) Called into activity unemployed talents. Rest 
is best found in change of occupation. The Apostles 
had been busy with feet, and hands, and tongues, but 
as yet -there had been little tax upon their thought. 
They simply did as they were told. Here, to some 
extent, they were thrown upon their own resources. 
Their ingenuity was called into play. “ He answered, 
and said unto them, ‘Give ye them to eat.’ And 
they say unto Him, ‘ Shall we go and buy two hundred 
penny-worth of bread ? ’ ” And so, my friends, if you 
want real refreshment after any week’s work, you will 
not find it in the mere passive hearing of the Word of 
God, or in sleeping away the Sunday afternoon. You 
will find it in the exercise of those gifts which have 
lain dormant all the week. Our minds and spirits, 
like our limbs, get the cramp by being inactive, and 
to restore them, the rest which the other faculties 
enjoy must be utilized by their employment. Many 
refreshing opportunities will be presented for doing 
good to those who are ready for them. It will be 
something, by a kind and judicious word here and 
there, and by the exhibition of Christian considerate¬ 
ness and courtesy, to leave a good impression. It 
will be something to manage that no one on your 
account shall be kept away on Sunday from the 
house of God. 

(2.) Again, this rest made the hands of the dis- 


99 


ciples busy with congenial toil. It did not seem so 
at first; but remember that they were away from all 
that “ coming and going ” which so harrassed them 
on the other side ; and instead of that, they were here 
and now introduced to, and taught and practiced in 
that blessed work of their lives, the giving to men 
bread from heaven. 

What is the secret of half the restlessness of life ? 
Why is it that men so often cry, “ Oh ! how mean and 
utterly unsatisfactory is this life of mine! ” It is 
because the soul is weary from the very want of 
congenial occupation. The soul’s true and refresh¬ 
ing work is assisting Christ to distribute the bread of 
life. Surely, brethren, your sanctified ingenuity, 
directed by the Master, will discover many opportuni¬ 
ties for shedding health and blessing wherever you 
may be. Whether going, or abiding, see if you can¬ 
not do something to make the place, as well as your¬ 
self, all the better for your presence. 

(3.) This congenial toil drew away their minds 
altogether from disquieting reports and anxieties. 
They had now no time to think about John the 
Baptist or Herod. It is not work that wears out men 
so much as anxiety; and the best antidote for anxiety 
is ministering to the anxious. If you are in trouble, 
don’t fret and fume about it. Don’t run away from 
the scene of it to brood in solitude. Go to those who 
are in trouble and want—you will find many such, if 
you look for them,—and comfort and relieve them. 
In this blessed ministry, this truest “ learning of 
Christ,” you will find solace for your own unquiet 
soul. 


100 


(4) This rest became so enjoyable, that it was 
difficult to tear the disciples from it. Our Lord was 
obliged to “ constrain ” them to go away. But the 
end had been gained, and with it other ends. They 
had rested, and had learned how to enjoy rest. Now, 
refreshed and strengthened, they must return to their 
ordinary avocations. Work, not rest, is the business 
of life. So they were to go back and engage in their 
work, in the same spirit in which they had employed 
their leisure hours. And, depend upon it, brethren, 
if you return with a restored spirit, as well as a 
refreshed mind and body, with a spirit that has been 
restored by doing good, and, therefore, by getting 
good, it will make a mighty difference in your work 
at home, both for yourself and for your Master. 

July 29, 1882. 


SERMON V 


“THE CONFESSION OF AGRIPPA.” 

Text, Acts 26, 28. 

“ Then Agrippa said unto Paul, Almost thou persuadest me 
to be a Christian.” 


9* 





V. 


The discourse of Paul, in presence of this tributary 
king of a Roman province, was mainly a narrative of 
his personal experience as a follower of Christ. 
Appealing to the recollections of his countrymen, 
that in early life he had adhered to the traditions and 
practices of the straitest sect of the Pharisees, he 
glanced at his bitter persecution of the disciples of 
the despised and crucified Nazarine, the exceeding 
madness of that perverted zeal which pursued them 
with exterminating hatred “even unto strange cities.” 

Bound on this commission of slaughter to Damas¬ 
cus, “ At midday, O King !” continued the eloquent 
apostle; “ at midday, I saw in the way a light from 
heaven above the brightness of the sun, shining 
round about me and them that journeyed with me. 
And when we had all fallen to the earth, I heard a 
voice speaking unto me, ‘ Saul, Saul, why persecutest 
thou me? It is hard for thee to kick against the 
pricks.’ And I said, ‘ Who art thou, Lord.’ And he 
said, ‘ I am Jesus, whom thou persecutest.’ ” 

Thus arrested, the heart of a blasphemous and 
fierce opposer was converted into *a temple of the 
Holy Ghost, a vessel of mercy to carry God’s saving 
grace to a dying world. 

And in that hour Jesus, who had so effectually 
arrested this headlong career of rebellion, gave to his 
servant that commission of apostleship, in the dis- 


103 


charge of which, through perils and privations, many 
and severe, this holy man never faltered. 

For this, he who otherwise might have ascended to 
any seat of power and honor in the gift of the proud 
sect which he had abandoned, now stood a reviled and 
villified outcast, pursued by implacable malice, almost 
unto death. But the chain which encircled his body 
did not bind his free spirit. To him it was no badge 
of shame, but a mark of honor superior to the richest 
circlet of royalty. In the presence of his foes and of 
a godless court, Paul stood in dignified collectedness, 
the unruffled serenity of conscious rectitude and 
peace. And with words of almighty power did he, in 
that audience where the gospel was but a jest, so 
unfold its truths and press home its claims, that 
the monarch was induced to precipitately close the 
interview with the unlooked-for exclamation, “ Almost 
thou persuadest me to be a Christian! ” 

What that declaration precisely meant as thus 
uttered we cannot be positive. Possibly it was the 
ironical sneer of a contemptuous skepticism, or the 
hollow compliment of spiritual apathy thus cour¬ 
teously escaping from confinement, or, possibly, this 
expression was one of those quick, short, spontane¬ 
ous acknowledgments which an aroused conscience 
sometimes forces from a troubled soul. 

So, at least, I shall understand its significancy. 
Taken in this light, it stands as the type of a fre¬ 
quent state of feeling among unconverted men. 
Peculiarly is this so in seasons of more than a usual 
activity of Divine influence in the community. Ah ! 


104 


how often, and in what tones of agitated emotion does 
the soul of many a man in these moments of aroused 
solicitude respond to the pleading spirit of the Lord, 
“ Almost though persuadest me to be a Christian 
while yet not altogether does that decision of the will 
reach the point of embracing personally and experi¬ 
mentally the offers of salvation. 

In view of this fact, two questions meet us and 
demand an answer. 

I. Why are many persons almost persuaded 
to be Christians ? 

To this I reply, because they are convinced, 

First. That experimental religion is a reality. 

All men feel the force, in some form and degree, of 
religious considerations. A true and perfect religious 
state was the first estate of humanity. Whatever 
changes have since occurred, nothing has or can 
destroy man’s constitutional need of the belief and 
influences of religion. 

So deep in the nature of a rational being lies this 
fact that the attempt of Satan has not commonly been 
to uproot and reject it. He ordinarily is content to 
pervert it to unsafe conclusions. This, by countless 
deceptions, he is ever busy in effecting, coining in the 
mint of error multitudes of specious counterfeits for 
circulation among men. In other words, no endeavor 
of man’s deceiver has been more steadily and system¬ 
atically followed up than this—to persuade sinners 
that, if they must believe some religious doctrine, it 
matters not what that may be, so they believe it sin¬ 
cerely. 


io5 


But one of the first thrusts of the sword of God’s 
convicting Spirit is aimed at the life of this most mis¬ 
chievous delusion. God never convinced any man of 
any religion save that which the Gospel of Christ has 
published ; which Paul announced to Agrippa, 
declared to Felix, and for which he was a witness 
unto death. And of the truth of the doctrine of 
“ Christ and him crucified,” God does convince the 
soul. It is the peculiar office work of the Holy Spirit. 
Sent from the Father through the mediation of the 
Son, he is in the world to convince it of sin, to show 
it sin’s remedy. And, as his influences have 
wrought in the conscience of the transgressor, more 
than one Agrippa has been made to confess, “ Almost 
thou persuadest me to be a Christian ; ” more than 
one alarmed and agitated Felix has hastened to soothe 
the pain of heart thus inflicted, by laying over the 
wound the suicidal, “ flattering unction,” “ Go thy way 
this time, when I have a more convenient season I 
will call for thee.” 

But every evasion of this description is only 
another demonstration of man’s acknowledgment that 
experimental philosophy is no fiction. 

And with you, my hearer, who art almost persuaded 
to be a follower of the Son of God, does not that 
persuasion fundamentally rest on your assent essen¬ 
tially to the distinctive features of evangelical religion ? 

Do you not know that what the Bible teaches of 
God—his character and government; of man—his 
sinfulness and responsibilityof Christ—his sacrifice 
and mediation, is true ? 


io 6 


Beneath whatever superficial cavils and question¬ 
ings may at times arise over these elementary truths 
of salvation, does not your honest soul confess the 
facts that sincere repentance, a cordial trust in 
Christ’s righteousness and death, a thorough regen¬ 
eration of the inner life, are plainly requisite to a 
reunion with God and a kingdom of changeless holi¬ 
ness ? Yes ; you have acknowledged all this to your¬ 
self, to God, perchance to your Christian friends. 

But your persuasion has doubtless gone further 
than this. Not merely do you concede the reality of 
personal piety, but you will not deny that, 

Second. It is your individual duty to embrace 
this way of life and salvation . If there be credible 
evidences that the grace of the gospel is adapted to 
the wants, and has accomplished the salvation of any 
soul, then must that grace be needed by all men, all 
being alike condemned before God. What, then, is 
the testimony here ? Has not the “balm of Gilead” 
been applied to the perfect healing of countless sin- 
sick souls? Have not the multitudes which no man 
can number heard the invitation, “Ho ! every one 
that thirsteth, come ye to the waters ? ” and led by 
the Good Shepherd, are they not at this hour, drink¬ 
ing with sweet satisfaction, on earth and in heaven, 
from that living spring, that river of God, of which if 
a man drink he shall never thirst. If, thus, this grace 
of God in Christ has saved others from the same con¬ 
demnation, I ask, is there not in this fact that which 
reasonably challenges every child of a ruined race to 
try for himself this remedy ? Upon this question, I 


107 


appeal earnestly to your own hearts whether you 
have not at times felt these considerations pressing 
upon you with a tender and moving urgency. Ques¬ 
tion past days, and say, when you have stood where 
religion finds its severest test,'and have seen it light¬ 
ing up the face of the dying with smiling hope and 
pleasure, and have heard its triumphant song, rising 
in notes of unfaltering trust, even above the “swell¬ 
ings of Jordan,” O grave, where is thy victory ? O 
death, where is thy sting?” were you not conscious 
that this immortal faith should be yours ? You have 
seen Christ’s friends surrounding His table, and it 
may be, that the sharer of your bosom’s warmest love, 
drawn by a power stronger than the strongest human 
attachments, was one of the company, who left your 
side to take her place by the side of a beloved Saviour. 
Your conscience said that act is right. You looked 
on that scene, so still, so melting, so like the gather¬ 
ing of the saints at the marriage supper of the Lamb. 
You saw that holy hopes, and pious joys, were bear¬ 
ing upward those hearts as upon the wings of eagles. 
Was there never at such an hour, some silent but 
earnest pleading within your soul for a portion in 
that same heritage of the Lord ? a sense of wronging 
that soul of what it knew to be essential to its repose? 
Have you ever been in one of those circles of social 
devotion, where Christians love to be, when their 
spirits are made glad by communion with their Lord 
and Saviour? Have you heard the breathings of 
childlike confidence, as drawing near even at the foot 
of the throne, they cry, “ Abba Father! ” Did you 


io8 


mark the elevated joy of that hour ; and how their 
hymns of praise seemed tuned as if in concert with 
the harps of the blessed ? If ever you have been in 
such an atmosphere of love, you could not but know 
that it was religion, whose .full, calm currents of 
delight were flowing all around you. And why not 
through my bosom also, sighed an inward voice, as 
bitterly it reproached you for shutting off from your 
parched, thirsty soul, the inflowings of this tide of 
gladness. How painfully does the unreconciled 
sinner feel, that, in the midst of friendships like 
those of the realms above, he is a stranger; that, in 
the presence of a table laden with the food of angels, 
he is a famishing beggar. How intensely he feels it, 
when the heart rouses from its ■ apathy to survey its 
actual condition! How many before me can attest 
this consciousness, as they know that surely by the 
indwelling of this love to Christ within their bosoms, 
can they be made blessed now and forever ? We 
wonder not then, dear hearers, that you are almost 
persuaded to become Christians. 

Yet another cause of this persuasion is, 

Third. Your conviction , that your final state is to 
be determined by the decision of your will in this 
matter. It is clear, that if man’s resolution to serve 
God never goes further than this irresolution and 
alarm he will perish. If it reaches the point of 
deciding instantly for Christ and the truth his salva¬ 
tion is secure. God and man must come together, 
and be at one in this vital concern. But it is not the 
Father, Son, or Holy Ghost, that needs to be per- 


109 


suaded to this reconcilement. That August Being is 
ready, O, how ready ! to give the condemned a share 
in the redemption of grace, a title to a mansion in 
glory. Has not heaven proved its readiness ? Is not 
God’s long-suffering for salvation ? Is not the unre¬ 
newed but spared transgressor a living witness of the 
divine willingness to deliver his soul from going down 
to the pit? Yes, unpersuaded man, that outstretched 
arm of a forbearing God is the only thing which has 
kept you from ruin for years, ’Tis you who are to be 
brought to be reconciled to God, not God to you. 
And you feel it. 

Let me come very near to your conscience. Repel 
not the solicitude which would bring it to testify truly 
in this most important affair. Can you plead that 
you have nothing to do in this matter, when from 
every honest voice of spiritual obligation, the exhorta¬ 
tion is pressing in upon you. “ Strive to enter in at 
the straight gate!” Is the spirit of God a solemn 
trifler ? Meant He nothing, as laboring to bring this 
controversy to a close, he tenderly cautions the reluc¬ 
tant offender not to quench his influences by which 
we are sealed, if ever, to the day of redemption ? No. 
Man’s responsibleness here is plain beyond denial. 
The human will understands its power, as a free act¬ 
ing agent, to be persuaded altogether or only almost 
to be an obedient will to Christ. Else, why the soul’s 
anxiety about this question ? Every throb of agita¬ 
tion, every misgiving fear within it, tells of its own 
imperishable obligation, its solemn, urgent duty to 
obey the truth. It is the high prerogative of every 

IO 


110 


rational nature, to decide its own destiny under God’s 
righteous rule. God will never so interfere with us 
as to annul this prerogative. Mad shapes his own 
immortality. Conscious that he is doing this, that he 
must do this, he is often filled with trembling and 
alarm. These, then, are the convictions which have 
brought some of you up to the threshold of the king¬ 
dom of God, almost within its walls of strength. You 
are persuaded that experimental piety is a reality, 
that it alone can satisfy your spirit, and that yours is 
the responsibility of deciding whether this treasure 
shall ever be more than almost within your possession. 

But there is another question to which my subject 
demands an answer. 

II. Why are so many only almost persuaded 
to become Christians ? 

If the confession of Agrippa was an honest expres¬ 
sion of spiritual concern, should we have judged with¬ 
out a reason, had we concluded that his conversion 
to the Gospel was well nigh assured ? How near 
apparently to salvation ! And, did we not know as 
much as we do of the human heart, we should have 
expected to find some subsequent record in these 
pages, of his faithful discipleship. But where is that 
record ? When was Agrippa more than “ almost ” 
converted ? And why do other thousands advance no 
further heavenward ? Why perish the multitudes of 
a Christian land, at the very door of the sanctuary, 
beside the very Ark of God ? And why at this very 
same point are many of this congregation halting, 
lingering, in irresolution and in peril ? The answer 


to this question, revealing the many devices of Satan, 
and the many “ inventions ” of man’s wayward heart, 
is a frequent topic of consideration in this place. It 
is at this point that men begin with one consent to 
make excuse. It is here thickly reared over a wide 
territory, skirting the confines of Christ’s kingdom, 
that for ages they have been building, of perishable 
materials, “ refuges of lies,” on a foundation of “ sand,” 
and cemented with “untempered mortar.” It is here 
that the great tri-partnership of sin—“ the world, the 
flesh, and the devil ”—has done its heaviest business, 
exchanging its merchandise of gold, and silver, and 
honors, and pleasures, and vanities of this life, for 
slaves and the souls of men. It is here that one 
pauses, entranced by the flashy glare of worldly ambi¬ 
tion ; another, lured by the seductive song of sensual 
delights; another, bound to the wheel of avarice; 
another, caught in the net of earthly cares; while 
some are terrified at the rugged aspect of the path of 
life; or the heavy burden of the cross ; or are detained 
by the opposition of sinful associates; or, stumbling 
at the offences of Gospel grace, refuse to enter Christ’s 
kingdom by its only gate, and spend a lifetime in 
wandering around its high environments in fruitless 
search for some broader, easier entrance. Of all this, 
no intelligent frequenter of a Christian sanctuary can 
be ignorant. Nor can a man be unacquainted with 
the workings of his own mind in evading truth and 
hiding from duty. All these numberless subterfuges 
of impenitency have one originating*source ,—no sym¬ 
pathy zvith holiness. This is the great fact which 


112 


perpetuates human rebellion in defiance of judgment, 
conscience, and God’s spirit. Men love not holiness ; 
men love to sin. Love rules all souls. Love of some¬ 
thing rules them for evil or for good. Love to God 
rules no impenitent soul. Else would not that soul 
be “almost” but “altogether” a Christian. To be 
this is to renounce attachment to all opposing loves ; 
is to be separate, in governing affections, from the 
world ; “ for all that is in the world,—the lust of the 
flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not 
of the Father, but is of the world.” (i John, 2 : 16.) 
To be this, is to deny ourselves, to take up the cross, 
and to follow the Son of man, whithersoever he goeth : 
is, in his own striking words,—words that convey 
to some minds at least, a most intelligible meaning 
—to be willing “ to enter into life with one foot or 
one hand, rather than having two hands or two feet, 
to be cast into hell.” 

If the freighted vessel cannot reach her port over 
the heaving billows, without throwing her lading into 
the deep, then let it be cast overboard, though it be the 
precious dust of Ophir. So,, “ if thy right eye offend 
thee ”—if it i£ treacherously luring thee to perdition— 
“ pluck it out: ” pluck out, cut off anything, which 
will not let you love and serve a holy Master. “ No 
man can serve two masters ”- -can do homage to God 
and mammon at the same time. A line, heaven- 
drawn, runs athwart this territory. The sinner often 
comes even up to it, with a troubled, but unsubmis¬ 
sive spirit. He sees its bearing ; he accredits 
consciously Its rectitude. Bu on the wrong side of 


it he lingers, and there he weeps, and his soul gathers 
terror, and his countenance gathers paleness, as he 
remembers all that he knows about God, truth, and 
duty. Conscience writes upon his heart, in deeper 
lines, the sentence of his condemnation. There, some 
of my hearers have sighed, and wept, and trembled. 
And there it was that you confessed—“ Almost thou 
persuadest me to be a Christian.” Why was it only 
“almost?” Ah, little matters it what particular 
thing as an excuse you have pleaded to your perturbed 
soul and to God’s pleading spirit. That eye, which 
reads the inner tablets of man’s hidden life, reads 
there this grand reason, underlying all others, of your 
prolonged impenitency—you are not willing to give 
up your whole being for all coming existence, to the 
control of God’s holy will, to be saved by his free 
grace, as an obedient subject of his holy kingdom. 
It is simply a question of submission, which lies in 
controversy between you,—submission to God through 
Christ. That is all. That done is to be “ altogether ” 
a Christian. Paul was such a Christian ; but not until 
his stern, opposing purpose was thus bent in child¬ 
like acquiescence, in broken-hearted grief over past 
rebellion, in humble faith in a crucified Redeemer. 
Upon his forehead who thus bows before him, Christ 
places that “ seal ” of acceptance which He, the Judge, 
will recognize and honor through endless time. There 
clothes He His saints in the “fine linen” of his 
righteousness, “ clean and white,” a fitting garment in 
which to walk the golden streets of the Jerusalem 
above. To that point of meeting, you have “ almost ” 

io* 


come ; shall the Spirit of God persuade you, beloved 
hearer, to take one step more ; or have you also taken 
your last step towards heaven ? 

I seem to behold some in my congregation, to-day, 
standing, as it were, at the very door-posts of the gate 
which opens to life eternal. Thither, the Divine 
Spirit hath led you. You look within that gate. It 
swings wide open on its hinges. You glance along 
that pathway and there, heavenward tending, with 
lightsome hearts and joyous singing, are traveling 
those whom you love, how tenderly! Some have 
just begun that journey. They look back upon you. 
They beckon you forward, they will even wait a 
moment in their deep compassion for your souls, if 
you will but hasten now to join their company. But 
back again to your companionship they cannot return, 
no, not if even these heart-ties of a human affection 
must be sundered for eternity. A stronger love hath 
bound them. A better land hath gleamed inspiringly 
upon their vision from afar. Oh! how sweetly, 
tenderly, comes back the melting invitation, from the 
shining bands of pilgrims on that celestial road, “ We 
are journeying to the land of which the Lord hath 
said, ‘ I will give.it you,’ Come thou with us, and we 
will do thee good ; for the Lord hath spoken good 
concerning Israel.” 

Bear with me, ye “ almost ” Christians , while once 
more I ask you, how strikes that beseeching voice now 
upon your soul ? Art thou altogether persuaded at 
once to enter that gate, to begin that journey, to join 
those pilgrims to Zion ? God’s mercy hath brought 


15 


you near to the kingdom, but not near enough, where 
as yet you stand, to escape “ the wrath to come,” not 
near enough to share in Christ’s salvation. Come 
nearer, then, come nearer, ye troubled ones, come to 
the cross of Christ; come within the gate of mercy; 
come now to the full determination, by the grace of 
God, to be no longer almost Christians, but to be¬ 
come now fully, and forever, the friends and servants 
of God and of His Christ. 


Aug. 3, 1856. 









SERMON VI. 

“AUTUMNAL THOUGHTS.” 

Text, Psalm i, 3. 

“ His leaf also, shall not wither.” 

Scripture Lesson : Isaiah 44, 1—8, and Psalm 1. 






VI. 


There is no season of the year which more invites 
the mind to meditation than the autumn season. 

It is a pause after Nature’s tumultuous activity ; it 
is a season of repose ; it is the Sabbath of the year . 
It finds us calm in body and mind ; the spirit seems 
more at leisure, and open to attend to the silent influ¬ 
ences and gentle messages of the spirit that breathes 
through all the deeds of God, than it is amidst the 
splendor and excitement of the spring and summer 
time. 

It was a season signalized in the ancient world by 
feasts of joy ; amongst the chosen people, by the 
Feast. of the Tabernacles, still kept up by them ; 
among ourselves by harvest festivals and thanks¬ 
givings. How good to remind ourselves of our debt 
to this great and loving mother earth, who feeds us 
with her “ kindly fruits,” and above all to rise to the 
thought, that God witnesses of Himself, reveals Him¬ 
self to us every year of our lives at this particular 
season, as the Benefactor; the eternal Doer of good, 
who sends rain from heaven, and fruit-bearing seasons, 
filling our hearts with food and gladness. 

When we carry this a little deeper into reflection, 
we find that the great thought impressed upon us by 
nature is at heart identical with the truth of the 
Gospel. It is life, spontaneous, abundant, inexhausti- 


ble, eternal, which throws itself forth in the leaf and 
blossom and all the thousand fold prophecy of spring¬ 
time, and, again, in the rich fulfillment and fruit of 
the autumn-time. If we cast a glance over the his¬ 
tory of the world we can fix upon seasons of promise, 
seedtimes of the world, and, again, upon times of 
glorious and happy fulfilment, when the truth has 
ripened, when spiritual food has been distributed 
among the nations, when spiritual toilers have seen 
of the travail of their soul, and have been satisfied. 

And so it is in the personal life. There are Sab¬ 
baths and festivals of the spirit, periods of life richer 
than our wont, when we are permitted to partake 
more deeply of the life of God ; when the mellow 
fruits of experience drop around us. We taste of 
their sweetness, and are inwardly filled with food and 
gladness. 

If our minds and hearts may be but opened to per¬ 
ceive the correspondence between nature and the 
soul, to know that for every outward beauty and 
blessing there is an inward analogue, then all the 
russet and purple glories of the autumn foliage, and the 
rich burden of orchards, and the memories of yellow 
harvest fields, shall fill us with a deeper joy, because 
we know that God hath fulfilled, is fulfilling, and 
ever shall fulfill, these scenes in human souls. 

We partake of the bounty of God in the harvest 
season ; but it is a deeper thought that we partake, 
through trust and love, of the very life of God. 
Naturally we all do, for He has made our hearts to 
keep time and unison with the great pulse of the 


120 


universe. God, we cannot but believe, delights to 
make his creatures as happy as the conditions of his 
government admit—the evil as well as the good ; the 
atheist who says no grace at the feast, sits down and 
enjoys it with the devout giver of thanks, for God is 
the maker of them both. Some poet has sung of the 
“joy of God to see a happy world.” 

How much deeper, then, our delight in the life and 
change of nature, if, brought near to God and recon¬ 
ciled to Him in Christ, we make His thoughts our 
own, and go behind the symbols of nature to find His 
spirit, and to receive out of his fullness life everlasting. 

The Sabbath of the year thus becomes our Sab¬ 
bath. If we have labored together with God in this 
great work of salvation, so now we enter into his rest. 
We, in pure sympathy with Him, may, in some calm, 
untroubled hour of autumn meditation, contemplate 
all His manifold works in the kingdom of nature and 
grace, and with jubilant soul pronounce them to be 
very good. “O Lord ! how manifold are Thy works, 
in wisdom Thou hast made them all! The earth is 
full of Thy riches.” 

But there are other and sadder moods produced in 
us by the Fall of the year. As we tread upon the 
decaying leaves, stamped into the earth, or listen to 
their rustling as the air stirs among them, we are all 
reminded of the words of the ancient prophet; we 
think of the fading, corrupting, transient quality of 
all that is human: “ We all do fade as a leaf, and our 
iniquities, as the wind, have swept us away.” We 
pass quickly out of that other mood into this, as the 



121 

short, bright Indian summer days pass on into the 
chilly, barren days that forecast the coming winter. 
This sad reflection in the human spirit of Nature’s 
seeming decay is as old as anything in the world of 
feeling and fancy. Homer wrote these words : 

“ The race of man is as the race of leaves ; 

Of leaves, one generation by the wind 
Is scattered on the earth ; another soon 
In Spring’s luxuriant verdure bursts to light. 

So with our race ; these flourish, those decay.” 

And coming later down, we find another (Shake¬ 
speare) putting these words into the lips of one 
lamenting the downfall of his hopes. “ My life is 
fallen into the sere, the yellow leaf.” 

If, indeed, we have divorced ourselves from God, 
the Lord of our souls, and life of all the world, then, 
indeed, are we no better than fallen leaves. But let 
us take courage, and comfort one another. The truest 
way of interpreting Nature’s symbols is always the 
hopeful way. God is ever calling us to Himself. “In 
Me is Life,” He saith, yea, life for them that have 
been dead in trespasses and sins, life for those who 
have passed into the sombre and faded mood of self- 
condemnation and self-contempt. The great resource 
of the Gospel is that it gives us hope concerning our¬ 
selves, by leading us to Him who can re-create and 
renew us evermore. Those dead leaves on which we 
trample are not the emblems of our whole selves, but 
of parts of ourselves—our sins, our passions, our pride, 
our vain glories. They are dead, or must die; but 
we have the promise of a better life in parting with 


122 


them. Oh, if we can but believe in all its length and 
breadth the truth of the old saying, “ While there is 
life there is hope,” it is well. While there is a living 
God in the world, and we believe in Him, we cannot 
give way to the gloomy thoughts which the memory 
and sense of sin beget. Those withered leaves will 
soon pass again into the very substance of the kindly 
and all-concealing, all-forgetting earth. So shall our 
sins and our sorrows be absorbed and forgotten, if we 
will but cast them into the all-forgiving, all-oblivious 
memory of God. Do we not constantly see that He, 
the worker of good, is ever busy wiping the traces of 
human wrong from off the earth, causing next year 
the grass to grow more greenly, the cresses to flourish 
more abundantly on the plains which cruel war has 
watered with blood ? Is He not ever requiting our 
wrong with His right, meekly enduring all our insults 
against Him, and overcoming our evil by the irresisti¬ 
ble might of His goodness ? And what He is upon 
the vast scale of this great world, that is He in the 
little world of your life and of mine. Nor do we 
honor Him by indulging in vain regrets over the 
powers we have abused or squandered, and the losses 
that have befallen us, but rather by looking out for all 
hints of hope for the future, all promises that because 
He lives we shall live also to change the Autumn of 
regret and the Winter of discontent into the flush of 
returning Spring. 

Let us go to the tree for a moment, from which 
the foliage is fast disappearing. If we gently pull the 
petiole or foot-stalk from the stem, we shall And, on 


23 


close examination, that the new leaf-bud has already 
formed, ready for the sun of next Spring, so that when 
we see death, we see life near by : it is, in fact, the new 
life which occasions the death of the old. 

Now, here is a parable with endless meaning. Let 
us carry its interpretation a little way into our life, 
and see how there is endless compensation for all loss, 
that life is mightier than death. Let us fairly ask 
ourselves if we can think of anything that we have 
lost, or may lose, which has not been, or will not be 
(as we may justly hope) made up to us by the living, 
loving, and atoning energy of God. This much all 
will admit, that a man never suffers a loss without the 
gain of knowledge of some kind. Take the loss of 
wealth : “ ’tis far bitterer to lose than ’twas sweet at 
first to acquire.” In losing money the man seems to 
lose, and, in fact, does in a sense lose, a part of him¬ 
self. We may speak from the height of philosophy 
or Christianity of a man’s riches being no part of him¬ 
self ; but the man himself feels otherwise. So long as 
they remain in his possession they are just as much a 
part of his mind as any other object of the imagina¬ 
tion. They dwell with him, they lie down and rise up 
with him, they walk forth with him. The conscious¬ 
ness that he is a man of substance is a continual 
repast to his mind. He carries around with him an 
instrument of enjoyment and of power. To deny that 
the loss of all this can ever be otherwise than acutely 
painful to a healthy condition of mind, would be both 
foolish and untrue. For a man to boast that either 
religion or philosophy will enable him at once to rise 


124 


superior to such a blow, would be a vain attempt to 
overstrain the power of both. There must be time 
for recovery from the shock before they can begin to 
exert their healing power. But let the man have 
time, leaving his wounds to the gradual healing 
processes of Providence, and let him begin, after a 
sufficient interval, to count up his gains. To begin : 
Although the loss took from him what was at one 
time a part of his mind, it did not take his mind itself ; 
it did not deprive him of a single energy. On the 
contrary, it stirred every energy into new activity. 
A Spanish proverb says, “ Though the ring be lost, 
the finger remains,” and this may be applied to riches 
and the loss of them. The power of recovery, the 
energy of labor, the only ultimate secret of all wealth, 
is left, even when the fruits of past labor disappear 
like the Autumn leaves. 

Or, again, take the loss of friends. There are 
bereavements of this kind which for the moment seem 
to be, and are said to be, irreparable. How many 
have thought on losing a wife, a child, a sister, they 
should never smile again. But not only do they live 
to smile again, they learn to dwell upon the image of 
the departed and all that was good and true in the 
past life, and to clothe it again with hues of beauty 
which, perchance, the living person had never worn. 

It is the change which all loss brings about in our 
way of life, which teaches us, in the end, that it is a 
blessing in disguise. We have gone on long enough 
in one rut and way. We have followed our occupa¬ 
tion until the mind has become dead in it. We have 


125 


sunk down upon our lees. We have gossiped long 
enough with old acquaintances, and extracted the 
honey from familiar books. It is time we made some 
new friends, and turned the pages of some fresh 
books. These struggles are painful, but they are the 
renewed travail of the soul, and the bringing forth of 
the results of its earthly discipline. We cannot 
immediately realize these things. We cannot part 
with our friends. We cannot let our angels go. We 
do not see that they go out only that archangels may 
come in. We are idolaters of the old. We do not 
believe in the riches of the soul. We do not believe 
there is any force in to-day to ^fival or recreate that 
beautiful yesterday. We linger amidst the ruins of 
the old tent, where once we had bread and shelter; 
we believe not that God can feed, cover, and nerve us 
anew. We cannot again find aught so dear, so sweet, 
so graceful. But we sit and weep in vain. The Word 
of the Almighty saith, “Up and onward for evermore.” 
We cannot stay amid the ruins; and we are unwilling 
to rely upon the new. We walk with averted eyes 
like those monsters who look backwards. 

The compensations of calamity are also made 
apparent to the understanding after long intervals of 
time. A cruel disappointment, a loss of wealth, a 
loss of friends, seems at the moment unpaid loss, and 
unpayable. But the sure years reveal the deep 
remedial force that underlies all facts. The death 
of a dear friend, wife, brother, lover, which seemed 
nothing but privation, somewhat later assumes the 
aspect of a friend or a guardian angel. It brings 

n* 


126 


about revolutions in our way of life, terminating an 
epoch of infancy or of youth which was waiting to be 
closed, breaking up a wonted occupation, or a house¬ 
hold, a -style of living, and allowing the formation of 
new combinations more conducive to the growth of 
character. It permits or constrains the formation of 
new acquaintances, and the reception of new influ¬ 
ences that prove of the first importance to the coming 
years; and the man or woman who would have 
remained a sunny garden flower, with no room for its 
roots and too much sunshine for its head, by the fall¬ 
ing of the walls and the neglect of the gardener is 
made the “ banyan of *the forest,” yielding shade and 
fruit to wide neighborhoods of men. 

Let us reflect for a moment on that delightful 
action of mind by which God in His mercy gives 
beauty and meaning, as we look back upon them, to 
the smallest events of the past. As all objects in the 
distant landscape, however uncouth to a near view, 
acquire a softened and beautiful appearance in rela¬ 
tion to the whole scene, so with our memories of 
pain. Somebody has said : “ Even the corpse that 
has lain in the chambers has added a solemn orna¬ 
ment to the house.” The falling of the leaf is a par¬ 
ticular loss, but the tree itself is unhurt. And if we 
have that knowledge of, and that trust in God of 
which the Scriptures speaks as a tree of life, neither 
vexations nor calamities should abate our trust. We 
exaggerate our grief, we are too ready with com¬ 
plaint, we do not state our losses so lightly as we 


12 7 


might. “ It is only the finite that has wrought, the 
infinite lies stretched in smiling repose .” 

How much trouble, again, does the change of 
thought and opinion bring, especially in religion, to 
the earnest and sincere. They are grieved with 
themselves because they cannot see the truth in the 
same simple unquestioning way as when they were 
children; because they have doubts and difficulties 
about many things that once were plain, because 
they want more proof and cannot take for granted all 
that preachers say. But this is the consolation. 
God has given you a nature, the law of which is 
growth. You must change or die. To doubt and to 
discard our old opinions on the way to a larger appre¬ 
hension of the truth, is as natural as for the shell-fish 
to crawl out of its beautiful but stony case, and to 
form for itself a new house, because the former no 
longer admitted of its growth. What St. Paul says 
about putting off the old man and putting on the new, 
about being renewed inwardly from day to day, is 
true, not of one part only, but of the whole life of the 
soul. Alas ! too often we resist the gentle hand and 
guidance of God, who would lead us a little further 
from day to day; and then the changes that must 
come are felt by-and-by as jarring shocks, instead of 
easy and natural transitions. Alas! too often our 
minds are confused, and we are found striving against 
the spirit, preferring the repose which must result in 
spiritual stagnation and death, to the onward move¬ 
ment of life and health. Let us grasp this law, 
so clearly revealed in all history, in all the life of 


128 


nature and spirit; that God, the unchanging One, 
reveals himself in change, in the development of all 
the works of His creation. To fall in with His law, to 
suffer Him to have His will with us, this alone can 
bring us peace; to be disobedient to it is to flag, to 
stand still, and to die. 

Life is full of compensations, prosperity and adver¬ 
sity, loss and gain, death and life. “God hath set 
the one over against the other to the end that man 
should seek nothing after Him.” Let us take heart, 
look forward to the “ far-off interest of tears,” and in all 
our grief, like the wounded oyster, may we “ mend 
our shells with pearl 

And we may carry on these thoughts to the future. 
One of the greatest men of our century, the German 
poet Goethe, stood one evening with his friend and 
biographer on the Weimar road, gazing at the setting 
sun. He was an old man of seventy-five years. For 
awhile lost in thought he said to his friend, in the 
words of one of the ancients: (“ Untergehend sogar 
ists immer dieselbige Sonne,”) “ Still it continues 
the self-same, sun, e’en while it is sinking.” “At 
the age of seventy-five,” he continued with much 
cheerfulness, “one must of course think sometimes 
of death. But this thought never gives me the least 
uneasiness, for I am fully convinced that our spirit is 
an gssence of a nature quite indestructible, and that 
its activity continues from eternity to eternity. It is 
like the sun which seems to set only to our earthly 
eyes, but which in reality never sets, but shines on 
unceasingly.” 


129 


May God fill us all with that cheerful intelligence, 
born of deep trust, which may enable us to see that 
all life’s changes are for good, so that when we seem 
to die, it is that we may live again, yea, enter into 
larger enjoyment of that life which Christ came to 
give us more abundantly. 


Nov. 18, 1882. 








s 


SERMON VII. 

“THE SOUL’S ANCHOR.” 

Text, Hebrews 6, 19. 

“ Wliich hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure 
and steadfast, and which entereth into that within the vail.” 


VII. 


This is but a part of the memorable passage begin¬ 
ning with the tenth verse of this chapter. Vide Heb. 
6 , 10-20. 

The very words have the sound in them of the 
footsteps of God. There is a majesty in the very 
progress of the thought and in the movement of the 
sentences. There are two figures, apparently most 
unlike, wrought together here—a refuge and an 
anchor. “ Who have fled for refuge to lay hold upon 
the hope set before us, which hope we have as an 
anchor These figures do not succeed each other, 
but they intermingle. It may be a violation of 
rhetorical rules, but it is the fulfillment of a rich 
imagination thus to commingle figures ; for no one 
who is apt to see things in .symbols and by pictures, 
but knows that for the same thought there will often 
rise several distinct figures striving to represent it, 
and that the mind will, in its more fervid moods, take 
both figures or many of them in part. Thus in 
another place the Apostle speaks of being rooted and 
grounded in love ; but a tree stands on its root, and a 
house stands on its foundation, and both figures 
suggest to the mind the same idea. The hypocritic 
may say that a man cannot be a root and at the same 
time a foundation ; but he can be that which root and 
foundation alike signify—i. e., established, stable, 


133 


unmovable. A fervid imagination uses figures as 
freely as words, and as we often change words, or 
inflect a sentence from the very overflow of feeling 
as the progress of that develops in our mind, so is it 
with figures and illustrations. 

Even, then, if these two figures were seemingly 
separate in every one of their parts, there would be 
no mistake in rhetoric, for the two figures were, one 
of armies and fortresses of refuge, and the other of a 
storm on the sea and a safe anchorage. They would 
not disagree or be incongruous, since they express, 
from different sides, the one intense meaning, namely, 
safety in extreme peril. 

But in this case I think there is a sublime unity in 
these figures that is not often seen. It is as if the 
Apostle had seen the soul beset with great troubles 
like storms. Doubts and temptations fill the air 
black : the poor, driven soul flies for shelter, the very 
wind drives it ; the peril of the elements and their 
terrible threat speed it to some covert, and so it 
makes for the refuge. And then, in the universality 
of his imagination, the Apostle sees the storm not 
alone upon the land, but upon the sea; the mariner is 
swept with the wind and dashed with the overwhelm¬ 
ing waves, and for his peril the a?ichor is the refuge . 
The storm is common to both figures ; the refuge is 
for the land, the anchor for the sea ; and both of 
them mean one thing, security. For what a strong 
house is in the one sphere, that a sure and steadfast 
anchor is in the other. 

What, then, is the substance of the teaching? It 


12 


34 


is this: That there is a trust in God and a trust¬ 
worthiness in Him, which can hold the soul in every 
emergency. This is not a consolation arising from a 
sense of one’s own integrity or strength, nor from 
consciousness of attainment, even though these are 
effected by Divine help. There is no state of grace, 
there is no condition of affection, there is no amount 
of virtue or strength which, in extremity, can be a 
source of joy. No amount of experience, no stead¬ 
fastness, no victorious power of resistance to evil, 
will inspire joy except for the first hours of victory. 
Nothing is more common than self-confidence in 
times of prosperity, but trouble strips a man. When 
the soul is really touched, when the storm strikes, 
then the sails are split and the masts go overboard, 
and a man rolls like a helpless hulk in the sea. There 
is nothing like real trouble to bring a man to the 
test, and then these vain self-confidences that wore 
of some avail, when he did not need them, become as 
nothing at all when he is in urgent want. A house 
built on sand is, in fair weather, just as good as if 
budded on a rock. A cobweb is as good as the 
largest chain-cable when there is no strain on it. It 
is trial that, proves one thing weak and another 
strong. It discovers the weak places; it discloses 
all foolish refuges, and discriminates between true 
and false reliances, with unmistakable certainty. 
Now the confidence expressed here arises simply 
from a trust in God. It is the feeling that springs 
up from our very helplessness. It is such a sense of 
the Divine nature as makes the thought of God just 


35 


as inevitably a refuge as the sight of a tower or of a 
fortress to the fleeing and the pursued. 

Now it is the nattire of God to take care of those 
who put their trust in Him, so that the very word 
“ God ” suggests care, kindness, goodness. The very 
idea of God in His infinity, is infinite care, infinite 
kindness, infinite goodness. All creatures are good 
sometimes. There is not a man so bad that there is 
not some excellence in him, some spot in which he 
has amiable intentions. Many men are good a great 
deal of their time, very few men are good continually. 
Our radical conception of the Divine Being is that 
of infinite mercy, infinite kindness, infinite love— 
paternity,—embracing by the very necessity of his 
being, all his creatures in infinite tenderness and 
kindness. I desire to make a distinction here, and 
there is great strength to be derived from it. There 
is many a man that does not do a kind deed by the 
propulsion of his nature, but because you persuade 
him to do it. You study his weak side; you bring 
the object to him ; you touch him skillfully in the 
affections, in the imagination; in a thousand ways 
you address yourself to him, and finally the man is 
persuaded to do the kind deed you desire. There is 
so much of kindness in him that by suitably exciting 
it you may have responses of favor. It is dormant 
until, by the exercise of stronger feelings and the 
application of extreme motives, it is brought out. 
But in approaching God, it makes a great difference 
in our effort, in our hope, in our expectation, in our 
faith and trust, whether we approach Him as one to 


136 


whom such things are possible upon proper occasions 
and upon such and such conditions, or whether we 
approach him as one the very momentum of whose 
nature, and the very course of whose life, the very 
flow and necessity of whose being, is to be genial, 
gentle, kind, good, merciful. It is this thought of 
God,—that he is inevitably protecting and kind, so 
that the very word itself suggests help , as the word 
fortress suggests refuge,—it is this that lays the 
foundation for this hope and this strong faith. It is 
this feeling that is peculiarly developed by the interpre¬ 
tation of God’s nature, and also by the mercy and love, 
by the invitations and promises, of the Lord Jesus 
Christ. For why did He come to seek and to save 
the lost ? Why did he proclaim himself the shepherd 
and protector of the flock ? Why did he say, “ Come 
unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I 
will give you rest?” Why did He declare, “ Because 
I live, ye shall live also?” Why did He say, “All 
that the Father hath given me shall come to me, and 
no man shall pluck them out of my hand ?” unless it 
was to enkindle in the soul a trust which no darkness 
could quench and no trouble could shake ! 

The very center of doubt is that our salvation, or 
succor, is to proceed from some meritoriousness , or 
constancy , or strength in ourselves. Such a confidence 
will save a man when he is strong, but it will always 
abandon him when he is weak. An anchor is not a 
thing to sail by, it is not a thing for fair weather. It 
is something for extremity. No man anchors if he 
can sail; if there is safety in sea-room he makes for 


137 




the sea, but if he is near by a coast he anchors, that 
he may hold himself against the storm. Now in this 
passage, God is set before us as a Being for use in 
seasons of peril and extremity, as an anchor that lies 
on the bows of a ship apparently quite useless 
through days and weeks, is used for extremities. It 
is to be relied on when the winter wind sings in the 
air with threat of danger, and when there is darkness 
on the sea in the night; then we throw the anchor 
overboard to hold us for the time being, while before 
the storm. The anchor seemed quite useless for the 
ordinary purposes of life. And so there are extremi¬ 
ties of life when the soul can hold by nothing else 
but some such hope as this in God. There are times 
in men’s history when, although they may be 
prosperous, they say, “ My poverty ; ” yet there are 
times when poverty has no foresight, and there is 
nothing to do but to say, “ God is rich and I am poor; 
I anchor upon God.” 

I wish to point out some of these emergencies that 
occur in the lives of men, in which there is nothing 
but just this: God my hope, and God my help. 

There are emergencies, first, of religious expe¬ 
rience in which the soul can do nothing but simply 
abandon itself, and simply lay hold on God. In the 
application of experiences of a Christian life we rest 
upon various truths; we rest upon various activities 
and duties, and not improperly in their sphere and in 
their place ; but I suppose that every person who has 
a work of grace that is deeply rooted in him, remem¬ 
bers days and hours at some period of life in which 
12 * 


138 


there is nothing that it can rest upon. There is just 
this one thing—helplessness, the most utter , hanging 
upon the neck of strength, the most august ,— a sense 
of the most profound unworthiness, standing before 
the most profound worth and purity and excellence. 
As the stars that rise in the morning over against 
the light, never rise so brightly nor last so long as 
the stars of evening that rise from darkness, and that 
grow bright from darkness, so out of our spiritual 
experiences, though there rise up bright conceptions 
of God, there are none that compare for one single 
moment with those thoughts of God when the soul 
feels prostrate in the dust with its own sinfulness. 
There is majesty in the thought of mercy, and wonder 
in the graciousness of God, when we feel that we are 
sinful. But it is not always the feeling that sweeps 
us down the stream of being, as a leaf is swept down 
the Amazon. There are moments when a man feels 
that from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, 
he is sinful and unworthy. These wonderful hours, 
when touched by the Divine finger, give inspiration 
to a man’s moral consciousness ; and when we are 
pervaded with a sense of our unworthiness, there is 
but one thing for us to do, to hope in Jesus Christ, 
and to hope simply, or else to despair. 

You cannot understand how he atones and pardons, 
nor can you see what is the relation of Christ to you. 
There is no philosophy about it. There is nothing 
but this simple instinct of hope. We clasp hold of 
Christ and say, “ Thou art my anchor, thou art my 
safeguard and my surety.” It is a feeling and not a 
thought. 


139 




Again, there are moods of doubt and philosophical 
skepticism, in which nothing is left to the soul but 
this thought of God ; for the effect of philosophizing 
is the effect of untwisting the thread,—it grows slack 
instead of growing strong. I think that often faith 
and much thinking do not dwell well together. And 
this is true not alone of religion. It is just as true in 
friendships. Let a friend insist upon reducing all 
feelings and instincts to thoughts, and strive to under¬ 
stand the nature of emotion by thinking, let him, 
instead of giving liberty to his heart, apply his phi¬ 
losophy to his friends, and see whether he will stand 
nobler in friendship. Let him go into the realm of 
“thinking out ” eternal things, and it would be just 
as foolish. There are hours when it seems as though 
everything is swept away from us; there is no 
heaven, it is all fancy and a dream ; there is no re¬ 
sponsibility ; there are no such things as sin and 
virtue; we are all so many animals, we are all follow¬ 
ing the instincts and circumstances that press with¬ 
out us ; there is no God, or he would speak, or cer¬ 
tainly he would give us some token in our extremest 
anguish that he is near ; there would be some dawn 
of light. There are a great many men who strive to 
explain these doubts by reference to natural laws, but 
no man has followed this line of thought to any satis¬ 
factory result. There are a great many happy, genial, 
and hopeful theologians who think that, at last, they 
have found otit God. In every generation you will 
find a man that explains everything. He seems to 
succeed until the next man kicks over the super- 


140 


structure, and it all goes back to dust again. So we 
have excellent and amiable men that are raising the 
questions of the universe. Not content with looking 
at this side of creation , they go back and run along 
just before creation. Some men are constantly going 
out at the rear door, and some at the front door, and 
sweep their thoughts round about creation to settle 
these vast questions that are never settled. When 
you shall chain the waves of the sea that they shall 
not rise any more ; when you shall fasten in the tops 
of the forest the winds that rock them, and make 
them sigh their dirges in winter and sing their 
anthems in summer; when you shall hold the courses 
of the stars and bind the earth that it shall not roll in 
its orbit, then you may take these great questions, 
and, by the bands of your thought, and by the cords 
of your philosophy, you may confine them to your 
own narrow thought . And so with the thoughts of 
every man. There must needs come hours when a 
man feels himself quite drifted away from old 
thoughts. Contagious hours they are, hours of great 
trouble, awakening nightmares of philosophy and 
doubt. In such hours as these there is nothing for 
the soul to do but to flee, and there is but one way 
for it to flee and that is Godward. A man in such 
hours that does not flee to God, should flee to the 
lunatic asylum. There is but one way in which a 
man can find any rest, and that is to say : “ There is 
a Thinker, there is a Controller. If men have not 
drawn his lineaments rightly, and if the portraiture 
of the books is incorrect, one thing I know, my soul 


proclaims there is goodness and wisdom in Him. 
He has control. Whatever it is, I seize it, I hold by 
an anchor to that blessed hope.” The very moment 
a man begins to hold by that, as by an electric touch, 
the clouds fade away, the sweet beaming face of 
Christ shines again, as sometimes you have seen 
them disappear in the morning, you know not how. 
We are bright again, and have joy in Christ and in 
all the blessed promises of His word. The miracles 
recorded there are not half as marvelous as the mira¬ 
cles wrought in the sweet experiences of Christians 
every day. 

Again, there are times of affliction in which the 
soul is obliged to let go of everything. Great strength 
is there in health. Great weakness is there in sick¬ 
ness. We live because we have bone and muscle 
and nerve. While the bone is strong, the muscle 
elastic, and the nerve resilient, if troubles come, we 
beat them off; but how is it when bone, and muscle, 
and nerve fail us ; how when sickness has dried up 
the blood ? For the strong man armed battle is play, 
for him that has courage and weapons it is easy to 
fight. But how is it when there is neither courage 
nor weapons, nor sight even of the adversary ? The 
peculiarity of many of the afflictions of life is that 
they take out a man’s marrow, they take the strength 
out of him ; he is left collapsed and feeble, and there 
is nothing in him to rise up against these troubles. 
It is quite in vain to stimulate such persons by tell¬ 
ing them that they are not suffering more than many 
others have suffered, or that the longest night has a 


142 


dawning. All these truisms of consolation do not 
help anybody, but hurt a great many. There is but 
one thing under such circumstances that ever has 
consolation. When, by reasons of afflictions of any 
kind life is paralyzed, and there is no sensibility left, 
if the soul can lift itself up to feel that there is life 
in God, that there is a vital connection between itself 
and the life of Christ, that though it die it shall live, 
the simple thought that Christ lives and so shall I live, 
is an anchor that shall hold a man in the extremity and 
emergency of grief. 

There are also times when God seems to discharge 
from life all its light, and to change all things to 
darkness. He takes from honor its brightness, from 
pleasure its sweetness, even from love its potency. 
He takes away all stability from things that seemed 
firm. He turns business into folly, all things are 
perishable, vain, and frivolous in our sight; nothing 
has any life or value but the eternal world, with the 
all-centering God. This is an hour when the world is 
put to shame. Then the only sure and steadfast 
anchor for the soul is its hope in God. 

So there are hours of violent temptation, when the 
soul seems to be pursued by furies and fiends ; when 
vanity, deceit, pride, and passion,—old passions, like 
old craters burned out,—have new eruptions, and vomit 
forth the lava of depravity. There are times when it 
seems that sins bud and sprout again ; times when 
the soul is like a garden whose weeds have been cut, 
without killing their roots. In such hours there is no 
medicine but that of heaven, no refuge but that of 


143 


God, no anchor that can hold the soul but that anchor, 
sure and steadfast, which enters within the vail. 

There are likewise, times of uselessness, and weak¬ 
ness. I suppose that those who are born weak and 
live weak, do not perceive any especial trial in weak¬ 
ness. But I cannot conceive, to an active, restless, 
enterprising, achieving man, any horror greater than 
that of being laid aside to be utterly good for nothing. 
When you have run with the world, when you have 
thundered with the thunderer, when there has been 
in the height of battle the measure of your arm and 
of your pen with the strongest and the boldest, to 
think that, by-and-by, you shall be laid aside, that you 
shall hear the trumpet sound, and not rush to the 
charge; that the arrogant and the haughty shall speak 
proudly, and you shall have no voice to rebuke them ; 
that other men shall put forth hands to take hold of 
life, and there be no grasp in your hand and fro 
power to achieve in your arm; that you shall lie dead 
without dying, on the shores of time like a ship that 
is of no use on the land and cannot float at sea. Yet 
such is the experience of many and many a man. 
It is a great grace when a man can lie useless and 
yet look up to God, and feel sweet content because 
it is the will of God. I know of nothing, in such a 
trial as that, but the “ anchor, sure and steadfast,” 
that can hold a man. By-and-by comes sickness, by- 
and-by come premonitions of death, and by-and-by 
comes the “valley of the shadow.” The man is 
marked and on his way to his last account. In the 
solemn hour men no longer judge themselves as they 


44 


did in the midst of life, and excuse their acts. When 
a man is far off from God, and the judgment day is 
not in all his thoughts, he will reason as he pleases ; 
but when he is advancing faster and faster into the 
very presence of his Judge, and his immortality is at 
stake, it is a very different thing, then, to think, to 
measure, and to judge. In that hour neither assuring 
priest, nor singing friends, nor weeping relatives, nor 
any earthly appliances of consolation, are of any 
validity. When the soul is struggling up and out of 
life, nothing but God can hold it in its launches; then, 
in the last hour, if anything, the soul needs God, 
it needs the anchor that is within the vail, sure and 
steadfast. 

But this is not the last. There is something that is 
worse than dying. It is to have death —and you left 
behind; it is to have them die that have your life in 
them, for whom you could have died, would have 
longed to die, but they went and you stayed. Life 
was carpeted with sackcloth , the heavens were brass, 
and the earth was dust. When your heart was 
stricken through and through, and you had turned 
from all things as insipid, if not even loathsome, in 
that affliction that follows such bereavements, there 
is but one anchorage,—GOD. 

My dear friends, it is quite in vain for any of us to 
have a hope in God which is valid only in the fair 
hour of prosperity and of health. When an anchor 
is thrown overboard, if it floats on the stream, it is 
useless. No anchor is of any value whatever to a 
ship that cannot by its cable go down to take hold of 


145 


the firm bottom, and, that, taking hold of it, is not 
able to keep the ship. If when the storm beats, if 
when the whole concentrated fury of the storm beats 
on the ship, the anchor holds it, that is an anchor 
worth having. Woe to the . mariner whose anchor 
breaks in the time of testing. If you have a hope 
that is good when you are young, when you are pros¬ 
perous, and when you are happy, but does not hold 
you when you are sick, when you are cast out, when 
you are bereaved and discouraged, when life is taken 
away from you, if you have no hope that holds you 
then, you have nothing that is worth having. An 
anchor that only deceives men with the appearance 
of safety, but that gives away in the hour of danger, 
is worse than none at all. It is a hope that holds a 
man when he does not need holding, and breaks 
when he most needs its security. I beseech you, 
therefore, now take such a thought of God; now 
enter by faith into such communion with Christ; 
now so center and plant yourself in the life of God, 
that when these times of trial come, you shall not only 
be sustained, but sustained with such abundance 
of consolation that with the apostle you will be able 
to testify : “ I glory in my infirmities. I count it all 
joy when I fall into divers trials.” 

There is a cup that everybody must drink ; there 
is darkness for every one ; there is a Gethsemane for 
every human creature with or without Christ; there 
is a night, a period of sadness and sorrow. No man 
lives without troubles. There is a time when the 
firmest hopes grow insecure, when the sweetest 

13 


146 


pleasures cease any longer to please. Have you 
made any provision for that hour ? Is there between 
your souls and Christ, a sacred union ? Do you now 
call him Saviour and Lord ? Have you laid your head 
upon his heart ? Have you so given yourself to God 
that if he forgets you, he forgets himself? think 

OF IT ! 

If you have, you may give yourself no thought for 
to-day, nor for to-morrow, nor for any time, for they 
that trust in God are surrounded as was Jerusalem, 
by mountains that shall not be moved. There is no 
such security as they have whom God loves and 
watches, and is to them in their prosperity like the 
sun, and in their adversity like the light of all the 
stars, to guide them in their night. 

God grant that it may be our lot to have this hope 
of God as “ an anchor of the soul, sure and steadfast 9 
entering into that which is within the vail .” 

Nov. 30, 1878. 


SERMON VIII. 

“THE SAINT’S CITIZENSHIP.” 

Text, Philippians 3, 20. 

“ For our conversation is in heaven.” 



VIII. 


One of the first English translations of the Scrip¬ 
ture, a translation that is almost five hundred years 
old, being the one made by Wycliffe in A. D. 1380, 
renders this passage more literally and more clearly 
than the present authorized English version. It 
reads, “For our living is in heaven;” that is, the 
place of our existence, the centre of our life, our home, 
is in heaven. Our own version has it, “For our 
conversation is in heaven. The word which is here, 
translated “ conversation ” has no such signification. 
It is used in no other place in the New Testament. 
It is derived from a Greek word which signifies a 
citizen , and the. form here used means citizenship , 
that is, to be a. native or a citizen of a place or a 
country. It will give us, then, a clearer idea of the 
meaning of the inspired author of this passage, if we 
read it, “ For our citizenship is in heaven,” or, as the 
old translation quaintly expresses nearly the same 
idea, “ Our living is in heaven ; ” that is, heaven is 
our father-la.nd, —our home,—the country where we 
live, although absent now for a little while, in a 
foreign land—the place of our citizenship. 

There is a parallel passage in the 12th chapter of 
Hebrews, where, after speaking in that and the 
preceding chapter of the Christian desire for a 
“better country” than his earthly inheritance, i. e., 


l 49 


“ an heavenly,” the Apostle says, “ But ye are come 
unto Mount Sion, and unto the city of the living God, 
the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an innumerable com¬ 
pany of angels, to the general assembly and church 
of the first born, which are written in heaven, and to 
God, the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men 
made perfect; ” and farther along in the same 
chapter, he concludes with this inspiring “Where¬ 
fore, we receiving a kingdom which cannot be 
moved, let us have grace, whereby we may serve God 
acceptably with reverence and godly fear.” And, in 
the 2d chapter of the epistle to the Ephesians, 
another parallel passage reads : “ Now, therefore, ye 
are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellow- 
citizens with the saints, and of the household of 
God.” 

For our citizenship is in heaven. The Apostle’s 
argument here is, that his Christian brethren should 
be followers together with him of the Lord Jesus 
Christ, that they should have their hopes, their hearts, 
and their thoughts in heaven, and should obey its 
laws on the ground that their citizenship was in that 
celestial country, that heaven was the land of their 
desires, their home. 

A loyal subject never forgets the land of his citizen¬ 
ship. His allegiance to his native country is not a 
thing of chance, not a changing sentiment. Place 
him where you will, and the farther you remove him 
from his country, his father-land, the people he is 
proud to call his fellow-citizens, and the more vivid 
will be his memories of that land, the more ardent 
13* 


will be his longing to return to it. To a traveler in 
a foreign land, nothing affords truer satisfaction than 
to meet with a fellow-citizen. To join hands in a 
distant country with one who claims fellow-citizen¬ 
ship, with one who acknowledges allegiance to the 
same government, is to find a brother in sympathies, 
a friend in necessity. How often do persons who 
have hitherto been entire strangers to each other, 
meeting for the first time in their travels, far distant 
from the land of their nativity, find in the fact that 
they belong to the same country and owe allegiance 
to the same government, a bond of sympathy and 
fellowship which becomes indissoluble. The declara¬ 
tion, “I am a Roman citizen,” from the lips of perse¬ 
cuted Paul, was enough, on one occasion, to secure 
the sympathy of many who heard it. A few years 
since, during the turmoil of a civil war in Syria, when 
the insurgents had fired the town of Deir-el-Kanur, 
and the smoke and flames enveloped nearly every 
dwelling, in -the midst of that scene of carnage and 
death, some absent missionaries returning to their 
home, descried from a distant hill-top the flag of 
their own native land still floating peacefully over 
their dwelling, and telling them at a glance that its 
inmates were safe, and that their nationality was 
respected by the remorseless savages by whom they 
were surrounded. What a power to control and to 
concentrate the sentiment of love of country, has the 
ensign of liberty, the emblem of American nationality! 
With what deep and tender affection is it gazed upon 
now by thousands of our fellow-citizens, scattered in 


every nation of the earth, as they wait with impatient 
anxiety to hear tidings from their beloved father- 
land. Ask them why that deep anxiety, why their 
conflicting hopes and fears ? And their only and 
sufficient answer will be, “ I am an American citizen.” 

If, then, we find that our love for our native land is 
so deep and so constant, with what fervent abiding 
love shall we think of our heavenly land, the celestial 
possession which awaits us while yet we are strangers 
and pilgrims on earth ? If we covet the honor of 
declaring our earthly citizenship, what shall we say of 
the heavenly ? For, if we are strangers and pilgrims 
as we confess ourselves to be, if we have received a 
“kingdom that cannot be moved,” if we have a title 
to an “ inheritance that is incorruptible, undefiled, 
and that fadeth not away,” then may we declare with¬ 
out hesitation that our citizenship is in heaven. The 
traveler, wandering in distant lands, turns his thoughts, 
with increasing desires, homeward, and longs to stand 
upon his native soil, to meet his friends once more. 
The Christian is a traveler in a foreign land. Heaven 
is his home, the object of his expectations, the place 
of his citizenship. Saints and angels are his fellow- 
citizens, and joint heirs of God. If this be true, then 
heaven will be the place that we shall most desire to 
see, and concerning which we shall long to possess 
complete knowledge. 

What are some of the characteristics which should 
make us desire to see the heavenly country ? 

I. We shall be perfect in heaven. The true and 
living child of God has no greater trial in this life than 


152 


that which he experiences in the conflicts with his own 
imperfectly sanctified nature. Sin, the great disturb¬ 
ing element in this world, the source of all imperfec¬ 
tions, will find no place in the heavenly world. 
Nothing is, or can be, a cause of greater disquietude 
and unrest to the Christian in the present life, than 
his numerous and sinful direlictions from the path of 
rectitude, his imperfect obedience to the requirements 
of God’s law, his imperfect service as a child of grace, 
and his imperfect love as a disciple and follower of 
Jesus Christ. 

The conflict of a renewed and sanctified nature 
against the power of selfish affections, is a continual 
source of trial and often of disappointment to the 

believer. The characteristic of heaven which should 

* 

make us long to see it, is that such warring between 
the flesh and the Spirit will have no place there. 
The warfare is for the life that now is ; the completed 
victory is reserved for the life which is to come. 
The probation of faith is for this world; its fruition is 
for the world above. Imperfections mark the best 
service, the most exalted love here ; perfection will be 
the glory of that love and service hereafter. 

The Christian in heaven will not be perfect in the 
sense in which we speak of God as a being of endless 
perfections. An infinite distance must, in this respect, 
forever remain between the Creator and the creature 
of his hands. We shall enter heaven, babes in knowl¬ 
edge and in wisdom, and although the human intellect, 
unembarrassed by its earthly clogs, will doubtless 
rise to a sublime view and knowledge of the works of 


153 


God, and his perfect system of moral government of 
the universe, yet the perfections of God's nature will 
be infinitely beyond our highest conceptions. The 
power of God creating a universe of worlds and the 
moral intelligences with which it is peopled ; the 
eye of God overlooking and watching all the sphere 
of life and activity ; the hand of God sustaining all 
things, guiding and controlling the hidden springs of 
human and angelic existence; the wisdom of God, 
in the moral government of the universe, directing 
all things and accomplishing such results as shall be 
for the glory of the Eternal name; the love of God 
unceasingly devising good for, and conferring bless¬ 
ings upon its objects : these will forever remain sub¬ 
jects too vast and too sublime for the comprehension 
of finite minds. 

But that which will constitute the Christian per¬ 
fection in heaven will be his sinlessness, his freedom 
from the power and effects of transgression. His 
love there will be a perfect love , untainted by any 
remaining selfishness. His service will be a pure, 
holy, and willing service, exalted above any admixture 
of sin. His hope will be perfected in fruition; his 
faith perfected in sight: his prayer perfected in end¬ 
less praise and joy ; his whole life will be perfected in 
an eternal union with the life of Christ. What a 
joyous and blessed life that must be, when we love 
God our Father and Christ our Saviour as we are 
loved by them ! 

II. We shall see our Christian friends , and be 
reunited to them. The belief is not less universal than 


154 


the desire that in the world of light the saints of God 
shall recognize and be united again to those they 
have loved on earth. It will require but little observa¬ 
tion and thought to satisfy any one of the universality 
of this belief. It was the traditionary faith of the 
earliest known pagan nations, it has been the belief of 
successive generations both pagan and Christian 
from the earliest ages of the world’s history to the 
present time. It has been the theme of the philos¬ 
opher and of the poet, and the subject of Christian 
faith and song. 

It may be asked whether the universality of the 
belief of a recognition among saints in heaven is a 
sufficient evidence of its truth. Our answer is that 
no error of religious belief is, or ever was, even 
measurably universal, while on the other hand there 
are great and fundamental truths whose greatest claim 
upon our credence is the universal sanction of the 
human race. Take for example the great truths of 
the existence of God, and the immortality of the soul. 
The very teachings of the Bible itself are based upon 
the supposition that these are truths which are 
universally accepted. 

But if we desire stronger proof of the doctrine of 
the mutual recognition of saints in heaven than the 
universality of the idea, it may be found in the fact 
that this belief has grown clearer and more definite 
under the light and influence of Christianity. The 
dew upon the grass is dissipated by the brightness 
and warmth of the rising sun ; so error flies before 
the advancing light of Christianity. But this truth, 


155 


with individual and unimportant exceptions, was 
universally held not only in the early morning twi¬ 
light of human life, but under the influence of Christ¬ 
ianity it has become more clear and vivid, and more 
firmly believed than in any previous age of the world. 
Without pausing to pursue the argument on this 
point further, we present this truth as a reason why 
the Christian should desire to see the heavenly 
country. How could the idea of a heavenly recog¬ 
nition be better and more beautifully expressed than 
with the words “ gathered to his people,” “ gathered 
to his fathers,” forms of expression so frequently used 
in the scriptures ? These household words awaken 
in the heart a thousand pleasant associations of 
former attachments. With the hope of being gathered 
into the society of such a kindred at death, and these 
themselves glad in the Saviour’s smile, death will be 
sweeter and softer than repose. Can this be an hour 
of terror, thus to die with the arms of earthly and of 
heavenly love joined beneath and around us ? No. 
it is more like going home. 

“ How blest the righteous when he dies; 

When sinks a weary soul to rest.” 

Another and most interesting thought is suggested 
in this connection. It is that those who have gone 
before us in childhood will doubtless meet us in the 
celestial world. “ I shall go to him, but he shall not 
return to me ! ” This declaration of the Psalmist is 
clear and decisive on this question. Where was his 
absent child ? Where did he expect to be reunited 
to him ? His own language in another place indicates 


56 


it. “ Thou will show me the path of life ; in Thy 
presence is fullness of joy ; at Thy right hand are 
pleasures forevermore.” As we do not think of an 
earthly home without the charms of childhood, why 
should we separate them entirely from our thoughts 
of the heavenly home ? If He who has gone to pre¬ 
pare a place for his saints in glory, said, “ Suffer little 
children to come unto me and forbid them not, for of 
such is the kingdom of heaven,” why shall we not 
expect to find that in our Father’s house of many 
mansions He has prepared a place for them ? John, 
in his vision of Heaven, saw the dead, small and 
great , stand before God, and of such a “ multitude 
which no man could number,” singing, “Worthy the 
Lamb.” 

III. Another characteristic which should cause us 
to desire to see the heavenly country , is that we shall 
see and have intercourse with the sainted dead of other 
ages. Christ has set forth this view of our celestial 
fellowship with the saints of other ages most clearly 
in his declaration : “ I say unto you, that many shall 
come from the east and west, and shall sit down with 
Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of 
heaven.” This passage confirms us in the hope that 
we shall meet and enjoy social intercourse with the 
illustrious dead whom we have not seen in the flesh. 
This is a most animating hope! It will be an un¬ 
speakable pleasure to meet and to converse with the 
patriarchs, the prophets, the martyrs, the apostles, 
the reformers, and the fathers of the church ! What 
an element of bliss to meet the great and good of all 
ages, and all lands together in glory ; to hear from 


157 


their own lips of the trials and triumphs of the king¬ 
dom of God on earth in their day. It is said that 
Socrates at his death was filled with joy at the 
thought of meeting and conversing with Orpheus, 
and Homer, and Hesiod, and other learned and noble 
men who had died before his time. Should not our 
hearts throb with much higher raptures at thought 
of meeting with Abraham and talking with him about 
the faithfulness of God in that day of trial on the 
summit of Mount Moriah ; or to hear from the lips of 
Moses an account of his interview with God at the 
burning bush ; or to listen to the sweet singer of 
Israel, his harp attuned to celestial harmonies, chant¬ 
ing his own song of faith, “The Lord is my shepherd, 
I shall not want; ” or to stand beside the enraptured 
Isaiah in silent wonder, to hear him sing his once 
prophetic song, “ To us a child of hope is born ; to us 
a Son is given. His name shall be called the Wonder¬ 
ful, the Counsellor, the mighty God, the everlasting 
Father, the Prince of Peace ; ” or to discuss with Paul 
the great doctrine of justification by faith, and to 
hear him exclaim with purer delight than ever before, 
<4 Who shall be able to separate us from the love of 
God in Christ Jesus our Lord!” or to ask John, “ the 
disciple whom Jesus loved/’ about the holy rapture of 
those sweet communings with Jesus as he lay reclin¬ 
ing upon His bosom in the tender farewell scene ; or 
to walk the celestial Paradise # and along the golden 
streets of the Jerusalem above in companionship 
with the Christian fathers—Polycarp, Cyprian, Augus¬ 
tine, Aquinas, Luther, and Calvin, and all those who 
14 


158 


in modern times have brightened the firmament of 
the church. Well may we ask, is this a low idea of 
the heavenly felicity ? 

,IV. I must briefly allude to another characteristic 
which should lead us to desire to see the heavenly 
country. It is that we shall see the angels in heaven. 
We are taught in the word of God that there are 
angelic as well as divine beings in the heavenly world. 
It is not needful to attempt an argument now, in 
support of this position. The frequent mention made 
in the scriptures of their existence, their character, 
and their offices, is sufficient to show that they are 
holy beings whose employment is the willing service 
of God in carrying out his designs of love to his 
universe. Like obedient children in their father’s 
house, they love what he loves, and poise on waiting 
wing to do whatever he desires to have done. They 
are spoken of as “ ministering spirits, sent to minister 
unto them that are the heirs of salvation,” as a convoy 
of waiting attendants to bear a poor beggar to 
Abraham’s bosom, as standing to guard the gates of 
the New Jerusalem, as waiting around the throne of 
God singing “ Worthy the Lamb that was slain ; ” and 
as the “ innumerable company ” which Paul describes 
as receiving the saints on Mount Sion, in the city of 
the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem. 

V. But the chief attraction of heaven, and that 
which should cause in the Christian the most earnest 
longing to see the celestial country, is that we shall 
see Christ there. A sight of Jesus on his throne of 
glory in his own kingdom, will be to the saints the 
highest conceivable joy. A sight of the blessed 


59 


Saviour with a consciousness of His undying love 
which must then take full possession of the soul, will 
banish every doubt, quench every fear, assuage every 
sorrow, dry every tear, and shed the light of peace 
and joy upon the heart. Oh! my beloved, will it not 
be a worthy, an enrapturing sight to behold your 
Redeemer ? Have you not sometimes longed to see 
Him “face to face” that your joy might be full? 
And they that see Jesus will be changed into His 
image, from glory to glory. No longer shall you, 
coming with a few Christian brethren to the place of 
prayer, plead the promise, ‘ where two or three are 
gathered together there am I in the midst of them,” 
for there the glory of the Lamb that sitteth upon the 
throne will draw an innumerable company from all 
nations to bow in adoring wonder and love to cast 
their crowns at his feet. O glorious day! O rap¬ 
turous state; where no cares, no fruits of the curse, 
shall ever again interrupt the spirit in its pure devo¬ 
tions. O blissful world of saints ; where all is holy 
place, and all is holy time, where “No morrow’s 
quick returning light shall call us to the world again.” 
“ Our citizenship is in heaven ! Glorious truth ! 
Blessed land ! No sin, nor imperfection there ! All 
good people are there !—the angels are there—Christ 
is there—God our Father is there ! To that blissful 
land every voice of entreaty says, “come!” “The 
spirit and the Bride say, 'come! Let him that heareth 
say, ‘ come! And let him that is athirst come. And 
whosoever will , let him take the water of life freely. ” 


Oct . 20, 1861. 
































SERMON IX. 

“CHRISTIAN KINDRED.” 

Text, Matt. 12, 46—50. 

“ Behold, my Mother and my Brethren.” 


iT 


IX. 


The domestic side of Christ’s character has been 
but very little dwelt upon. There are in the New 
Testament records of single scenes and traits which 
reveal far more of his internal, domestic life than 
would seem upon the surface to be made known to us. 
Of his home life, strictly speaking, we know very 
little. His life of affection gleams out continually. 
Love was the prominent influence in the disciple band. 
By that more than by reason he held his followers to 
him. Wherever he came, there was soon developed 
a tendency to love among those that listened to his 
words. That is, his nature quickened that part of 
their nature by which they loved. 

In the scene which we have selected, is developed 
in a remarkable manner, the doctrines of the higher 
ground of loving. While discoursing, he was inter¬ 
rupted by his mother and brethren. Here, only, I 
think, we have an intimation that Christ had a sister. 
It is not asserted. It is not certain. But his reply 
makes it at least probable. Otherwise, why should 
he in speaking of that group that were waiting for 
him, have mentioned the name “ sister ? ” The most 
deeply interesting thoughts arise as to the nature of 
his love, to the terms of endearment, and as to the 
habits of intercourse and of intimacy which existed 
between him and his sister, if indeed he had a sister ; 


between him and his disciple band ; between him and 
that outward and more loosely connected band of 
followers; and between him and those holy women 
whose charities were, at least for a portion of his 
time, his only means of support. We can only sus¬ 
pect what they were. Nothing is plainly stated con¬ 
cerning them. 

It was peculiar to Christ’s teaching that he devel¬ 
oped the highest truths from the commonest events. 
His mind perceived the unity of creation. He 
instantly traced the filament by which the smallest 
thing ran up and joined the very center. As by 
nerves every pore and every particle of skin is con¬ 
nected with the great sentient cerebral center in the 
human body, so every single event that takes place in 
connection with man has its termination in the eter¬ 
nal. Therefore it was Christ’s way to mount from 
the most inauspicious and unimportant events and 
happenings to the very highest range of being, and to 
truths relating to man in his highest range. He 
does not declare that the affections, which are acci¬ 
dental, which spring up by juxtaposition in the 
family, which may or may not be suited best to call 
out our reciprocal love, which are but a lower form, 
a mere beginning, of that larger love that is absolute, 
and may belong to all, always, he does not declare 
that these are unworthy of our regard; but, taking 
them as things admitted to be eminent in excellence, 
beauty, sweetness, and power, he opens to the thoughts 
of men, if indistinctly, yet unquestionably, the doc¬ 
trine that there is a higher sphere and a nobler 
friendship. 


6 4 


i. The lower forms of friendship are rude, brief, 
and but meagerly fruitful. The lowest is instinct . 
It is the yearning of one toward another, without 
any office of reason interposed. The whole animal 
creation show this development. It is called the 
parental instinct. The fiercest creatures love their 
young; but it is the love of maternity , and not the 
love of the heart. It is not companionship, nor 
reciprocation of thought, nor even affection, as spring¬ 
ing from a higher quality of mind. It is an instinct 
whose office dies out in the preservation of the life of 
the young animal. It begins and ends with the 
beginning and end of life in the young, and has no 
existence after the passing of that young life into 
maturity. This, though standing amidst other and 
higher affections, enters largely into human expe¬ 
rience. 

Then come, a grade higher, the fierce friendships 
of the passions. These begin to call in intelligence, 
in its ruder forms. They are short but intense. 
They intermit, and often react, and turn back upon 
themselves. They spring from the flesh, and minister 
to it. One may love the hand that feeds him. One 
may love another’s presence merely for the sake of 
the sensations that power, skill, or witching ways may 
throw around him. Men may arouse pleasure in each 
other without arousing reason, or taste, or imagination, 
or moral feeling. And the power of one to produce 
upon another a low form of even transient enjoyment, 
forms a kind of passional friendship. These friend¬ 
ships come next in grade to the very lowest instincts. 


65 


Above these, still, come friendships of the intellect, 
including the ordinary relations of life, in which men 
find in each other’s society more or less of pleasure, in 
each other’s strength and knowledge degrees of 
various helpfulness, and, in general, the secular and 
ordinary companionship which redeems life from 
cheerlessness and solitariness. This friendship, al¬ 
though it has a large measure of intelligence, and 
although it has affection as well as passion and 
instinct in it, is not high in moral character. Though, 
in general, it is a kind of nourishing atmosphere, in 
which we live, its special measurement is small; its 
personal worth comparatively little. Yet these friend¬ 
ships suffice for common ends. They are easily 
formed; they are as easily discontinued. They are 
scarcely more recognizable than the diffused light, in 
which we dwell. These friendships are kept without 
any striking joy ; and they are laid aside without con¬ 
tinued sorrow. They are the staple of ordinary and 
undeveloped society-life. They are intensified by the 
power of serving each other’s pride, vanity, or interest. 
They are veined and checkered with faults. They are 
stopped entirely, or weakened, by rebounds of anger 
and selfishness. They represent souls that touch 
each other only by those elements that belong to this 
state of being. They are, therefore, intermediate 
between man as a creature of time and man as a 
creature of the great spiritual immortality beyond. 

Rising yet higher, are friendships which clasp 
souls together by reason of taste. These are enthu¬ 
siasms or' artist.friendships. They are the dry and 


undemonstrative fellowships of scholars. They are 
the quiet intercourse of thinkers. They are apt to be 
fastidious enthusiasms. Too often they are generous 
as between the parties themselves, but selfish and 
separating as between the parties and their fellows 
around them in the world. They are called higher 
friendships, and they are ; but they are apt to be with¬ 
out joyfulness, and without benevolence. 

One step higher, and we are within the palace of 
the soul, where God is, and where, at length, the 
animal becomes a being, and man finds manhood. 
Here are friendships which exist in the reciprocal 
action of the moral sentiments, the highest part of 
man’s being. These friendships are full of truth, of 
justice, of trust, of hopefulness, because these are 
eminently moral traits. They dignify and elevate 
men in their own consciousness. They have a 
boundless scope, and a wonderful joy. Love, spring¬ 
ing from that part of the mind which is uppermost, 
nearest to God, in sympathy with the spiritual and 
eternal, is an electrical connection with heaven itself, 
and emits its flashes and its inspiration. For the 
first time, he knows love in its highest and only true 
form whose affection arises from a reciprocal mingling 
of the moral nature of a man with that of his fellow- 
man. The fruit of love grows on these topmost 
boughs. 

It rnay be well to state two or three facts concern¬ 
ing love, before proceeding to the general relations of 
this subject. In the order of time, and in the order 
of use and perfectness, these grades unfold reversely. 


167 


That is, we learn to love in the secular and lower 
relations of life first. But when men are in full man¬ 
hood, that which comes latest, if it comes at all, takes 
precedence of all others, and governs all others. 

Men stumble in their use of the word nature ; none 
more so than those who justify low selfish loves by 
saying they are natural . Nature means, not what 
man just begun is, but what he is when finished. 
No one can safely say that a thing is natural till he 
gets the proportions, gradations, and connections, 
looking from the highest point downward to the end. 
No man, except one that is ignorant of what man is, 
can truthfully say that it is natural to love as the 
beast loves, speaking of man. That is natural which 
completes the whole divine idea of the structure of 
man. And the whole divine idea is, that, while in 
point of time, we begin to love by the lowest, by 
steady growth we learn to love by higher interspher- 
ings, till at last our whole being,—the reason, the 
imagination, and the religious elements,—combines 
into that part of man which develops the distin¬ 
guishing and discriminating element of love. And 
that is natural which comes last, not that which comes 
first. That is the truest nature which discloses the 
matured whole, and not that which gives the germ, the 
undeveloped seed. And that is, in the highest sense, 
natural love which loves most like God, and which is 
most comprehensive. Love, therefore, is, in its 
beginnings, but a seed planted. He that thinks its 
first disclosures are the highest, is like one who should 
think, when the seed is sown, that the reaping time 


had come, before growth had multiplied it a hundred¬ 
fold. It begins low. In the flesh it is secular, 
narrow, intense it may be, but selfish, and without 
grace, without variety, and without such beauty as 
belongs to its fully developed state, and certainly 
without enduring qualities,—those qualities which are 
enumerated in the 13th chapter of 1st Corinthians, 
and which we shall possess when we know as we are 
known. 

2. It is the duty, and the interest as well, of all 
men to develop out of each stage of affection a 
higher one, otherwise they outgrow love. On earth 
there is nothing more beautiful than the first break¬ 
ing forth of young, strong, new, pure love. No 
flower that ever blossomed, however fair ; no fragrance 
that any flower ever emitted, however sweet; no 
bravery of the sky ; no witchery of art ; nothing that 
man ever invented or imagined, is to be compared 
with the hour of dawning love in the young soul. 
And it is a disgrace that men should be taught to be 
ashamed of that which is the prophecy of their highest 
being and glory. Alas, that it should live mostly in 
its dawning ! Alas, that it should ever perish in the 
using. Alas, that men should not know that to endure, 
it must rise higher and higher, since it is only by 
growing into its full and later disclosures that it may 
be saved from a quick mortality. It must grow, or it 
must die : for that which suffices for a beginning is 
not enough for all, nor for all time. 

And, hence, true affection is strongest in the later 
periods of being. Perhaps it is less witching, perhaps 


169 


it is less attractive in novelty, perhaps it is less 
stimulating than young love ; but the popular impres¬ 
sion that we love strongest when we love earliest is 
founded neither in truth nor analogy. No one' 
knows the whole lore of love that does not know how 
to love with the reason, the imagination, and all the 
moral sentiments. It is the most interior school that 
the soul can know. Men may know how to deal with 
numbers and solve problems; but that is the rarest, 
the innermost, the deepest knowledge that comes 
with loving by all the faculties of the squl. 

3. The lower forms of love do not include the 
higher; but the higher forms do include all the lower 
ones. When we have learned to love one another by 
the highest reason, and by our moral sentiments, then 
this higher affection, descending, as it were, develops, 
dignifies, restrains, educates, and purifies all the lower 
forms. In the spring, it is not the root that starts 
the leaf and the bud ; it is the bud that starts the root. 
When the sun, shining on the outermost branches, 
promotes in them renewed excitability, they draw 
upon the root for sap, and vessel after vessel, all the 
way down to the root, awakens its neighbor. And so 
it is the top that creates activity in the bottom, and 
not the bottom that creates activity in the top. And 
in love, it is the highest supernal element, that which 
lies nearest to God, that awakening, sends its vivific 
influence down to the very root of life itself. 

A full and perfect friendship, then, is one in which 
two natures match each other in every faculty, so 
that moral life is reciprocal, so that thought-life is 
*5 


interchangeable, so that taste-life is harmonious, so 
that affectional-life is competitive and stimulating, 
and so that all the under-faculties are sobered and 
trained, and brought into unison by the religious 
nature. Two full beings, each provocative of all that 
is true, sweet, right, kind, and noble in the other, are, 
in the divine sense, lovers . 

4. This lower love separates men to themselves. 
It is conditioned, partly by selfishness, and partly by 
the needs of society, so that they who love by the 
secular and material side of life, experience a love 
that is manifested toward themselves and between 
themselves. But the higher love unites men and all 
men together. And here it is that we reach again 
the declaration of the text. When it was declared to 
Christ that His mother and brethren were standing 
near, and desired to speak to Him, there was instantly 
developed out of the thought of the relations which 
He sustained to them the thought of those higher 
relations which made Him brother and son to all that 
were spiritually great, pure, and true. And He 
stretched forth His hands toward His disciples, and 
said; “ Behold my mother and my brethren ! for who¬ 
soever doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven, 
the same is my brother, and sister, and mother.” 
Whoever lives by the power of his moral sentiments; 
whoever lives by high and holy tastes and sympathies ; 
whoever is developed in the spiritual man, and so does 
the will of God, him Christ declares to be His brother, 
His sister, His mother. 

A man may have a thousand mothers, a thousand 


7i 


fathers. A man’s household is not that which is 
under his own roof alone. In the lowest sense it is. 
In this age, and in the present state of society, we are 
circumscribed, and may not move out of that narrow 
sphere which both morals and necessity have sancti¬ 
fied and dignified by the name of household; but 
when we come to the higher relations, and are grown, 
and purified, and intensified, and augmented, then we 
shall recognize everybody as a brother that is joined 
to us in Christ. Then we shall go up and down 
through the world, saying, not “ He is my brother 
that has my father’s blood in him ; ” but, “ He is my 
brother that has my Heavenly Father’s blood in him.” 
Not he that was born under the same roof with me, 
but he that has been “ born again ” under the crystal 
dome with me, is my blood-kindred. 

The higher faculties of man need conversion far 
more than the lower ones. While man needs to be 
born again in his passions and appetites and force¬ 
giving powers, he needs to be raised from the dead 
itself in all that lies higher than these. And nothing 
so much needs the divine presence as that part of the 
soul where man loves. Here he is so selfish, so self- 
seeking, so # penurious in his gifts. It seems to me 
that if our Master were to come and look abroad, and 
say, ‘‘They are mine that are like me,” he would be 
almost an orphan, so few are there who could take 
hold of God and become brother, or sister, or father, 
or mother, or friend, by those higher affinities that 
come with the development of the upper life. 

When I look into this world to find the best places 


172 


in it, they are the households; and the best things 
there are friendships. And when I compare them 
with the passions, I discern how unspeakably precious 
these friendships are; but when I think of what love 
might be, I think of it in the comparison of a shep¬ 
herd’s reed with an organ. A few melodious men 
play on it, but all the higher ranges and vast combina¬ 
tions are mostly unknown. And nothing so brings 
down upon a man the charge of sentimentalism as to 
talk of such lQve. Men that traffic; men that measure 
things by the yard; men that weigh things in the 
scales; men that control property; men that compre¬ 
hend life only in its material aspects,—such men 
marvel when we spe ak of these higher developments 
of love. The poverty of what is called love; its 
jealousies; its exactings; its piercings and rendings 
of the object of its attachment; its want of wings, so 
that it walks upon the ground and can scarcely fly at 
all; its lack of largeness and beauty,—these are the 
most striking things that one sees in looking into the 
actual condition of love in human development. 

Now, what we want more than anything else, is that 
God should teach us how to love, how to grow in love, 
and how to rise up to its higher experiences. No 
other love except this higher Christian affection can 
hope long to survive, with any degree of effect, the 
selfishness of society, the enfeeblements of age, the 
disintegrations of death itself. There must be some¬ 
thing of eternity, something of the infinite, in every¬ 
thing that is to last beyond time. Therefore it is that 
I long to have parents regard their children in the 


light of the other world, and to love them into heaven 
in their imagination and in their thought. Therefore 
it is that, when the youth, hand in hand, go forth to 
the marriage-altar, my prayer is; “ Oh that this 
wedded life may become a sanctuary, and that those 
who enter it may never cease to hear those truths 
that the sanctuary was designed to bring down to the 
world.” 

I dread to see those beginnings and interactions of 
the lower nature by which they not only do not grow, 
but sink, lower and lower, until companionship con¬ 
sists only of a league or a covenant merely. Two 
beings joined in wedlock are like roots planted that 
were intended to grow, and intertwine, and spread 
themselves abroad, and cover others with their gener¬ 
ous shade, and be supplied with innumerable blos¬ 
soms and clusters, and fill the air with fragrance, and 
delight the eye with beauty. But in how many cases, 
instead of that, are they like vines that do not decay, 
but die, and remain but sticks in the ground contigu¬ 
ous ! How many couples are there that began to¬ 
gether, and should have formed a double one, who are 
but contiguous sticks, blossomless, fruitless, leafless, 
dead ! 

No affection can be considered as fit to live that 
has not been touched by the Spirit of God. No per¬ 
son ought to dare to look another in the face and say, 
“ I love you,” who through that face does not see the 
glory of the coming life. We are full of failings, and 
imperfections, and limitations. And you cannot 
repair human nature unless you take it in the arms of 
15* 


74 


your faith, and love not what men are , but what they 
are to be. There is given to it in this loftier concep¬ 
tion a sanctity, a dignity, and a power that would 
carry to the household blessings that now are never 
known there. 

This law of love unites men, all the world over, by 
virtue of their common humanity. I love to hear the 
names of my own kindred ; but if I thought that only 
they were my kindred who spelled their names as I 
spell mine, I should think myself very poorly attended. 
I count Abraham to be my father, and Isaac, and 
Jacob. I count David to be my ancestor. I suppose 
that I have not a drop of his blood in my veins, but I 
have in my soul. I am soul-kindred to him, and that 
is more than to be body-kindred. I go through all 
the toilsome periods of the past, and find a man that 
by faith lived above the world, and was sweet and 
large-minded, and I say, “ I have found a brother.” 
I go back among the heroines that have illustrated 
virtue, and fidelity, and purity, and divine sweetness 
of nature, in any period, and I, by imagination, clasp 
them as my affianced ones. They are indeed my 
sisters. And I find my brethren, some in the dun¬ 
geon, some at the stake, and some under the gallows. 
I find them in the hovel of the poor slave, and in the 
hut of the poor mariner. When I find men that have 
fidelity, and truth, and purity, and goodness, you may 
separate me from them by language, and customs, 
and institutions, and philosophies, and methods; and 
yet I go back to all these instruments and call them 
mine. If I find that which moves the life of men to 


i75 


be the development of all that is sweet and divine in 
them, I have a right, in the language of Christ’s 
declaration, to say of them, Behold my mother! 
Behold my sister ! Behold my brother ! 

Not only is this true of the retrospect and the 
present, but, when I look forward, I begin to frame 
for myself some adequate conception of the inherit¬ 
ance which awaits those who are true. When the 
son comes home,.after having been absent for years, 
the mother knows him, and he knows the mother. 
And yet they are dwelling in the flesh. And how 
more certainly and quickly shall they whose affection 
is of the spirit recognize each other when they meet 
in the spirit land ! men sometimes ask me, “ Shall I 
know my child ?” “ Shall I know my sister ?” “ Shall 
I know my own wife ? ” “ Shall I know those that I 
have lost from earth, and that have gone before me ? ” 
Do you suppose that the instincts of the body are 
half as keen or sure as the intuitions of the spirit 
life ? Do you suppose that this poor clay, moulded for 
a purpose of years only, is more recognizable than 
that spirit which was moulded for eternity ? If you 
know your own here , the difference between this life 
and heaven being that heaven is more higher, and 
more perfect, how much more surely and more per¬ 
fectly will you know them there ! 

And that is not all; we shall know there those 
whom we did not know here. They that dwelt under 
a cloud of misapprehension shall be seen in their true 
character. Men that were apparently enemies and 
unlike each other here shall recognize their real rela¬ 
tionship, and shall call themselves brethren. They 


176 


that moved in life utter strangers to each other, and 
separated by walls of sectarianism, shall meet together 
there in the one church, and marvel at the grace that 
has borne them, in spite of themselves, over the 
waves, to this higher reunion in the heavenly sphere. 

Ah! I understand what heaven is now! I am not 
now to be studying astronomy with books. It is not 
where I, a chemist, shall be a better chemist, though 
doubtless these lower kinds of knowledge will come 
in play there. My heaven is to be a heaven of fellow¬ 
ship and activity and of soul joy therein. And if on 
earth I enthusaize with all the moral faculties, and 
rejoice in life’s work under the clouds and limitations 
of this life, how much more in heaven shall I expe¬ 
rience enthusiasm and rejoicing when I have supreme 
possession of myself, and all the parts of my being 
are tempered together perfectly, and all that are round 
about me are like me, and we move in complete har¬ 
mony there, doing the work of God, unfolding, bless¬ 
ing, and blessed forever and forever. This is the 
heaven which fills my understanding and my imagina¬ 
tion. I am willing to die out of this world that I may 
appear in that. 

Christian brethren, I leave before you, then, to-day, 
this universal love, this absolute love, which Christ 
delineated, and which he practiced, by which he is 
yours, and you are his, by which you belong to the 
household of faith, by which all men that are true 
lovers of Christ are lovers of you, the hidden, mystic 
love by which we belong to so many, and they to us, 
in the bond of perfection which is the bond of peace. 
Nov. 18, 1876. 


SERMON X. 

“STRENGTH FOR THY DAY!” 

Text, Deut. 33, 25. 

“ And as thy days, so shall thy strength be.” 

Scripture Lessons; Isaiah 40, 28-31; Isaiah 41, 10,13,14 
Matthew 6, 31-34; Hebrews 13, 5,6. 


X. 


I never see the majestic figure of this prophet and 
legislator, Moses , rising before my mental vision, with¬ 
out an involuntary tribute of reverence. The grand¬ 
est name in all the old hemisphere of time, whether 
we consider simple greatness of soul, greatness of 
patient endurance, greatness of purpose, of moral 
quality, of wisdom in administration, or largeness of 
results flowing from his life, is the name of Moses. 

The passage (Deut. 33) that I have read is from 
his lips. It is a part of his dying blessing. It was 
at once a blessing and a prophecy. I have chosen it 
for the theme of remark, because the form of words 
has something in it which clings to the memory, and 
quite pleases the imagination. It is one of those 
sentences that, like a tame bird, flies in and out of the 
window of the mind with a gentle familiarity and 
tantalizing grace, letting you come very near to it, 
yet always eluding the outreaching of your hand. 
This passage has always come to me with a half-open 
meaning, which shut up when I would fain look at it. 
We all remember having heard it first in the prayers 
of venerable men in our youth. Their lives were the 
commentary of the meaning. I choose it, also, 
because it is a word coming down to us from a past, 
far-off age, when, we might suppose, many truths 
clear to us had been either undiscovered, or but little 


1/9 


known. And it serves to give moral unity to the 
race, to find a truth which later ages have evolved in 
every variety of form, and under all circumstances, 
just as clear and fresh in the beginning of the world. 
Indeed, then, earliest was trust most childlike. 
Scarcely could we find an Abraham since the days of 
natural science. Men leaned their whole weight 
upon God in those days. Now they lean partly on 
His works, and partly on the enriching institutions of 
society. And, as a whole, the modern is better and 
stronger. It rears up a higher race of men. But in 
the particular element of childlike faith, the old - 
certainly surpasses the new, as much as childhood 
surpasses manhood. Manhood, however, although it 
has not the trustfulness of childhood, is better than 
childhood in principle and wisdom, and in these latter 
respects the new is better than the old. 

This passage, I said, was a blessing of Moses. It 
was the particular blessing given to Asher. The 
whole passage is this: 

“ And of Asher he said, let Asher be blessed with 
children ; let them be acceptable, to his brethren, and 
let him dip his foot in oil. Thy shoes shall be iron 
and brass ; and as thy days, so shall thy strength be.” 
In other words, he was to be an amiable, industrious, 
careful, domestic stock; but enduring, patient, and 
invincible, with resources for every emergency. 

That which this venerable prophet spake of Asher , 
hath been spoken since, by the mouths of prophets 
and apostles, to all who put their trust in God. We 
read from the shepherd psalm, this morning, the same 


i8o 

substantial recognition of truth. I will now read 
from the prophet Isaiah in even loftier numbers, the 
same substantial sentiment. 

“ Hast thou not known ? hast thou not heard, that 
the everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends 
of the earth, fainteth not, neither is weary ? there is 
no searching of his understanding. He giveth power 
to the faint; and to them that have no might he in- 
creaseth strength. Even the youths shall faint and 
be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall; but 
they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their 
• strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles ; 
they shall run, and not be weary ; and they shall walk, 
and not faint.” * 

And again, “Fear thou not; for I am with thee: 
be not dismayed ; for I am thy God : I will strengthen 
thee ; yea, I will help thee ; yea, I will uphold thee 
with the right hand of my righteousness. For I the 
Lord God will hold thy right hand, saying unto thee, 
Fear not; I will help thee. Fear not, thou worm 
Jacob, and ye men of Israel ; I will help thee, saith 
the Lord, and thy Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel.” f 

Now this which you hear in those numbers, and in 
that grand prophetic strain, you shall hear again in a 
sweeter and calmer utterance from the lips of the 
Lord Jesus Christ himself : 

“ Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, 
which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven, 
shall He not much more clothe you, O ye of little 
faith? 

* Isaiah 40, 28-31. f Isaiah 41, io, 13, 14. 

f Matthew 6, 30. 



181 

And let us see how the Apostle interpreted these 
words of Christ, after He had finished the magnificent 
utterance of the book of Hebrews, in the last chapter 
of which he speaks in this wise : 

“ Let your conversation be without covetousness ; 
and be content with such things as ye have : for He 
hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee. 
So that we may boldly say, the Lord is my helper, 
and I will not fear what man shall do unto me.”* 

Gather up these golden sentences, and as many 
more as you will, and fashion them into a chain to 
wear about your neck. For a brooch, take, on the 
one side, “ As thy days , so shall thy strength be ; ” 
and for the other half, “ I will never leave thee nor 
forsake thee; ” and it shall be not only an ornament 
about thy neck, but a charm against fear and trouble. 
God’s grace will be administered to us as we need it 
in the exigencies of life. Although we know the 
general truth that God will not leave us, the special 
way in which He is going to help us we do not know. 
But we may trust the Divine Providence and leave the 
methods to Divine Wisdom. Is it release, deliver¬ 
ance, defence, instruction ? Is it the social or the 
religious element ? Whatever it is, as thy need comes, 
thy God shall come. 

First. It is not the design of these words of 
Scripture to repress forelooking and foreplanning, in 
secular things. This is nowhere forbidden. On the 
contrary, we are taught that “ a wise man foreseeth 
evil, and hideth himself.” Any one who has ever 

* Hebrews 13, 5, 6. 

16 



182 


traveled on the Connecticut river, and has been at all 
curious about what was going on around him—as 
every one ought to be—has observed how different 
the work of a pilot is there, from a pilot’s work at sea. 
The channel is narrow and tortuous. The shores are 
near to each other. The pilot does not steer by 
compass, but by shore lines, headlines, and landmarks. 
Now he runs to the middle, then, sheering close in to 
the left, he finds his channel along the bank for a 
little, and then, inclining again to the right, he shoots 
clear across to the deep water near the opposite shore. 
Now any one who has ever stood by the wheel-house, 
has seen the pilot, in difficult navigation, looking 
both forward and backward. He watches the land¬ 
marks behind him over the stern, and ahead of him 
over the bow. He carries his craft by looking both 
ways alternately, and takes his directions both from 
what he is leaving, and what he is approaching. 
And so must we steer in human life. We are not to 
seek trouble in either direction, past or future, but we 
are to seek guidance in both. We must look at that 
through which we have passed to know how to steer 
with reference to that, and we must look at that 
toward which we are coming to know how to steer 
with reference to that. Men fall into the great 
mistake, on this subject, of supposing that to look 
forward must mean to look anxiously forward. We 
may look forward with hope, as well as with despond¬ 
ency. And God’s word does not teach us that we 
are not to plan and forelook, but that we are not to 
plan and forelook with a spirit of anxious, mischievous, 


83 


annoying fear. That is forbidden. Asceticism of 
every kind is against the Word of God. That is 
Asceticism which leads a man to torment himself on 
account of the future, which leads a man to use the 
future as a whip to flagellate himself with. That is 
forbidden. It is not using the future, it is abusing it 
rather. 

Second. It is not designed in God’s Word to 
teach men that God will maintain a Providence of 
Miracles in their behalf, and that at any emergency 
he will exert a force aside from or above natural laws 
for their benefit. Whenever there are sufficient 
reasons, I do not doubt but affirm, the power and 
wisdom of God in the procuration of miracles. It is 
as an old writer (Dr. Thos. Browne) says, “ Either 
everything in this world is marvelous, or else nothing 
is.” If you look at things one way, they are all alike 
connected with the divine wisdom and power, and 
you can believe anything. But if you press for the 
visible or explainable causes of things beyond a given 
point, everything becomes inexplicable. 

In the beginning of the world, before the moral 
sense became developed, it was useful to act upon it 
through the instrumentality of miracles. But as 
men’s moral sense grows and becomes capable of 
appreciating moral evidence, miracles cease, as the 
nurse in the household is dispensed with when the 
child is grown so as to be able to take care of itself. 
Miracles are like candles lighted until the sun rises, 
and then blown out. We do not need them any 
longer. 


184 


Miracles were the educating expedients of the early 
periods of the world. As such, they were divinely 
wise. After they have served their purpose, it is 
humanly foolish for persons to pretend to have or to 
need them. There is no teaching in Scriptures of a 
stated providence of miracles. They are daily helps. 
They do not even belong to the mere economic rela¬ 
tions of men. In secular things God helps the men 
that help themselves. 

There is a providence that is made up of natural 
causes. Your own wisdom and agency are prime 
elements which God employs in that providence. 
He makes you work for yourselves. If any man is 
prospered, he is his own pilot. God teaches him to 
steer his own affairs himself. The whole flow of cir¬ 
cumstances about you is a part of this providence. 
All natural laws, and civil and social offices, are like¬ 
wise a part of it. God guides, molds, and controls, 
as Paul has declared, “ We know that all things work 
together for good to them that love God.” * He has 
also said. “ Work out your own salvation with fear 
and trembling. For it is God which worketh in you 
both to will and to do of his good pleasure.”! 

Here, then, are the two elements: ist. Let every 
man be willing to perform whatever part belongs to 
• him in life and duty, day by day. 2d. God promises 
that he will perform what is above man. 

God will drive the seasons around the year. He 
will turn the earth and wheel the stars. He will 


* Rom. 8, 28. 


f Ph. 2, 12, 13. 



control all elements. He will move the great moral 
causes of the world. He will inspire and sustain you, 
body and soul; and you for yourself, and God for you, 
will be a match against time and the world! Can 
you not put your trust in that, then ? 

But this very providence which causes one thing to 
link with another, and which is forever educing events 
and results in natural succession, makes it simply 
impossible for us to foresee, just how, at any point or 
experience, we shall be situated. Therefore, we can¬ 
not know what help will spring from our circum¬ 
stances. No man can look forward and say, “ I know 
how I shall be helped in such and such emergencies.” 
But God says to you, “ In the future I will take care 
of you.”. It seems like December to you when you 
look forward to a certain period in the future; but 
there will be spring months before that period arrives, 
and there will be the evolution of cause after cause, 
so that when you come to the place where you sup¬ 
pose your trials will be greater than you can bear, 
things will have occurred to prevent those trials. 
You take trouble because you cannot see how you are 
to get out of trouble in the future ; but God, to whom 
there is no future, to whom all things are an ever 
present now, says to you, “As thy days, so shall thy 
strength be.” 

Third. While God does take care of men when 
the time of need befalls them, he does not reveal to 
them before that time the particular strength or the 
particular grace by which he will help them. He 
does not invest and lay up in this way. He makes 
16 * 


the help to flow out from you and your circum¬ 
stances, when it is needed, and not before. And any 
forelooking, any anxiety about the future, is so much 
labor lost. Why should you have to-day what 
perhaps you cannot use for a year ? Why should you 
have in December what you will not need until July ? 
Why should you cumber yourself with things useless 
in advance ? A person says, “ I cannot understand 
how I am to get along when I leave my father’s 
house.” Why should you see it till that time comes ? 
What if a person going on a journey of five years, 
should undertake to carry provisions and clothes 
and gold enough to last him the whole time, lugging 
them as he traveled, like a veritable Englishman, 
with all creation at his back ! If he is wise he will 
supply himself at the different points where he stops. 
All he needs is a circular letter of credit. Let him 
present that at Baring Bros.’ when he reaches Lon¬ 
don, and at Rothschild’s when he reaches Paris, and 
he will be certain to receive a supply of current and 
reliable funds for the needs of his journey. The 
bank of Divine Munificence is eternally solvent, and 
honors its drafts at sight in every hour of the holder’s 
need. Its securities are bonds that run through end¬ 
less ages,—the promises of God,—every one of them 
guaranteed by a “ Yea and Amen in Christ Jesus A 
And the check of a believer’s faith, drawn “at sight ,” 
in the very hour when the help was needed, never 
yet went dishonored, it never will so long as Jesus 
Christ is the Cashier, and your divine all-loving 
Father presides in the Director’s Room. I wish 


. 8 / 


that in all the range of human language, a figure of 
speech could be found that would impress this 
glorious truth on the hearts of a busy, terribly strug¬ 
gling race, in a commercial age!!! I think that God 
rules over all days, all weeks, all months, all years, all 
latitudes, and all longitudes, and when an emergency 
comes, he will see that the relief comes with it. I 
shall never be shut up, or crushed, or cast away, for 
I shall be helped when the time in which I need 
help comes. 

* Now, it is not only a stipreme comfort to have this 
faith, but it is supreme wisdom . For, if there is any¬ 
thing that your experience will justify, it is this : that, 
as a general rule, the things that try you are the 
things which you never thought of before ; and that, 
on the other hand, the things that you anticipated 
would overwhelm you, never came upon you. I think 
the most humiliating thing a person could do—our 
vanity will not let us do it—would be to sit down and 
think how he has fretted and stewed and simmered 
in advance, about griefs and troubles which never 
came as he anticipated they would. A large majority 
of the troubles which people worry themselves about 
beforehand, either never come, or are easily borne. 
Hence, the folly of fretting about future troubles. 
It was not the old monks alone that wore sackcloth 
and hair garments. We wear them as truly as they 
did. We wear them inside , while they wore them 
outside. We wear them in our hearts , they wore 
them on their bodies. And of the two they were the 
wiser. 


88 


Now, what is the application of this general truth ? 

1. There are a great many persons who trouble 
themselves exceedingly in regard to expected events 
in their lives. Many Christians look forward and 
wonder how they shall be able to meet certain 
exigencies in their experience ; how they shall be able 
to resist certain temptations ; how they shall be able 
to perform certain onerous duties. They turn these 
things over in their minds with wondering fear, and 
seem to be utterly unconscious of the fact that God 
has never given it to any man to see how he shall get, 
along at any period of the future, but says, “ I will 
roll the wheel of time, and evolve your circumstances ; 
and when you come to the point where it is necessary 
for you to stand up for a principle, or to perform a 
Christian duty, I will see that you have the grace 
that you need.” 

2. There are a great many who are looking upon 
a Christian life wistfully, longingly, and' wondering 
whether, if they were to make an open profession of 
religious faith, they would be able to live as a Chris¬ 
tian ought to live. They take upon themselves un¬ 
necessary sensibility on this 'point. They say, “ I 
never could bear to bring disgrace upon the church ” 
—that is, upon themselves. They mean themselves , 
although they say “ church!' To every person that 
has a doubting mind with reference to his ability to 
lead a consistent Christian life, let me say that when 
Christ asks you to enter his kingdom, he asks you 
heartily, and that he says to you every day, “ Sufficient 
unto the day is the evil thereof.” “ I will never leave 


thee nor forsake thee.” It is none of your business 
to be talking about what you will be able to do after 
you have begun a Christian life. That God who will 
enable you to begin, will enable you to persevere. 
And if you begin earnestly, sincerely, in the use of all 
known means, God will minister that grace to you 
through life, which you need and have in the begin¬ 
ning. “ Greater are they that are for you, than they 
that are against you.” 

3. There are a great many who wish to reform 
themselves from evil habits, but who fear that they 
will not be able to hold out in a life of rectitude if 
they enter upon it. Nothing is more common than 
this when persons are wishing to change from an im¬ 
moral course to a virtuous one. One thing is certain, 
if a man does not try at all, he will not hold out. It 
is settled on that side, the chances are all on the 
other side, on the side that if you try you will succeed. 
If a man is able to say, “ I will succeed to-day at any 
rate, between horizon and horizon I will not sin, I 
will hold out for twelve hours at least,” ft a man is 
able to say that, his success in the future is more 
than probable, for God has said, “I will never leave 
thee nor forsake thee.” God has said, “ As thy days, 
so shall thy strength be.” God has said, “No tempta¬ 
tion shall befall you, from which I will not open a 
door of escape, if you will put your trust in me and 
my word.” If you go forward with this trust, not 
one of the mischiefs which you fear shall overtake 
you. 

4. Sometimes people worry themselves as to the 


190 


troubles which they see falling upon their friends, 
and which reflect themselves, in some sense, upon 
them. I have known a mother to turn from the 
chamber of sorrow that has fallen upon dear friends, 
to sit in sadness and weep over her own cradle, 
saying, “ Oh! how could I live if this child were 
taken from me ! ” and then imagining how it would 
seem to have father come home at night with no 
little one to run out to meet him, how it would strike 
like a dagger to her heart, if, when she was arranging 
the room, she should come across one of the little 
shoes which the servant had carelessly left on the 
floor, how, when she was walking along the street, 
other children would talk to her, by their innocent 
faces, of hers that was gone. Thus she spent hours 
of misery, thinking how they should feel if her dear 
child should be taken from her. By and by, in the 
Providence of God, that little child sickens ; but the 
mother is buoyant and hopeful. Though she has 
little confidence in God, she has a great confidence in 
the doctor. • For two or three days, she nurses and 
takes care of the child with a full hope that it will 
recover. After a few days, a shadow comes over her 
hope, as the child steadily sinks away. As it was 
born with a sighing' breath, it is born again with a 
gasping, sighing breath. It lies like marble—only 
marble was never yet wrought that was so beautiful 
as a child clad in flowers for burial. At the moment 
which it was thought would be the most trying, there 
is only a consciousness of a want of feeling. But, as 
the physical system begins to recover its strength, 


i 9 t 


one sweet thought after another comes up to alleviate 
the mother’s sorrow. Not that there are not griefs, 
and minor chords not made up in the major scale 
altogether, but God so tempers these things that 
though there is pain and suffering, there is a heart to 
bear. There is a “ shield of faith ” that comes 
between the soul and its adversary, fear. 

There are strengths administered to the heart 
adequate to the trials which it is called to endure. 
And, by and by, when this young mother becomes a 
matron and a saint, she rehearses her troubles to her 
children and to her grand-children, and says, “ God 
sustained me through them all.” Everyone that 
knows her says, “ How deep and rich has her nature 
been made by the things she has suffered.” And so 
it has been revealed in her experience that Christ 
will stand by those that trust Him, and teach them 
how to suffer, and suffer with them. “As thy days, 
so shall thy strength be.” 

5. Many persons trouble themselves about the 
day of their own mortal dissolution. 

We ought not to live as though we expected to live 
forever. We ought to have an evidence that this lifd 
takes hold of another life. We ought to have a com¬ 
prehensive view of the future, in order that we may 
make a right use of the present. But for a man to 
sit down and go into an analysis of it, and say, “ How 
shall I feel when my breath is growing shorter ? 
When my eye is growing dim ? ” and try to imagine 
how he shall feel when all things are changed, is as 
foolish as it is wicked. For a man when everything 


192 


connects him with the present, and when every beat 
of his heart is, Duty — Work ! — Duty — Work ! to 
torment himself with such questions as these—what 
supreme folly it is! You may depend upon one 
thing, that “ as your day is, your strength will be.” 
When your time of trial comes, God and His grace 
will come with it. 

This is a subject on which it were desirable, if it 
could be so, that the wisdom of experience might 
turn round and teach the unwisdom of inexperience. 
There are a great many persons present that could 
be better witnesses and teachers, in regard to the 
things of which I have been speaking, than I am. 
God has carried you a great many years further along 
than he has carried me. Some of you have gone 
through the afflictions of your life. Your duty is 
about done. Sometimes the sun seems to hang for a 
half hour in the horizon, only just to show how glori¬ 
ous it can be. The day is done. The fervor of the 
shining is over, and the sun hangs golden—nay, 
redder than gold—in the west, making everything 
look unspeakably beautiful, with the rich effulgence 
which it sheds on every side. So God seems to let 
some people, when their duty in this world is done, 
hang in the west, that men may look on them, and 
see how beautiful they are ! There are some hanging 
in the west now! And tell me, Christian friends, 
whether I preach a delusive thing, when I say that 
God’s grace will stand by a man according to his need 
of that grace; and whether a man can afford to cast 
aside care and trouble, and to trust in God! You 


193 


that have lived sixty, seventy, or eighty years, you 
that have drank the bitter cup, you that have walked 
the thorny path, you that in humble imitation of 
Christ, have worn the piercing crown, tell me, did 
God forget you ? Did he prove faithless to his 
promises ? If there is one who has been saved from 
grievous sin, he, more than any other, is prepared to 
say, “He that is able to do exceeding abundantly 
more than we ask or think, is God, who gives in over¬ 
flowing measure, who more than any one else fulfills 
His promises, who sends double-handed gifts when 
he has promised only finger-gifts. If we take the 
experience of men in respect to wealth , wisdom, honor, 
how much more ought we to take their experience in 
respect to God’s grace. If there is one thing upon 
which all Christians agree, it is this ; that so far as 
their experience is concerned, God has fulfilled every 
letter of the promises of his Word. In nothing is 
this fulfillment more apparent than in preparing them 
for every trouble, and burden, and sorrow, and every 
emergency of their past lives. And He will as 
surely prepare them for the last part, which is the 
best part, of their earthly existence. And as we are 
prepared for every stage which we pass through here, 
so when we go into Zion, and before God, that same 
love, that same wise care, will appear for us there. 
In the very entrance into heaven, it shall be Christ’s 
hand that shall administer that entrance, and that 
shall crown us, as it shall be Christ's heart that shall 
bless us forever and forever ! ! 

Then, “ as thy days, so shall thy strength be.” 

fune 20, 1874. 

17 





SERMON XI. 

“THE SHALLOWS AND THE DEPTHS.” 
Text, Psalm 130, 1. 

“ Out of the depths have I cried unto Thee, O Lord! ” 


XI. 


This exclamation in found in one of the finest of 
the Psalms of David. It suggests an impressive 
theme for our meditation; viz.: The shallows and 
the profundities of human experience. 

No greater difference is to be discerned between 
men than the difference marked by the fact that one 
lives on the surface, another lives in the depths. 
The former strolls along with a flippant air, easily 
disturbed, easily composed, trusting to himself, and 
leaning on the obvious facts about him, with scarcely 
an idea of anything beyond. The other, with more 
earnest thought, more sensitive and tenacious feeling, 
is aware of the measureless mysteries around him, 
and penetrated with faith and awe, looks out of the 
wonders and omens in which he moves for some 
protecting support, some explanation or guidance. 
The predominant moods begotten in these two men 
by their respective experiences of life contrast with 
each other as widely as the carelessness of one push¬ 
ing himself on a plank across a pool a few inches in 
depth, contrasts with the solemnity of one floating on 
a plank in mid-ocean,—the infinite blue above, the 
fathomless gulf below. 

Our ordinary forgetfulness of God and indifference 
to spiritual questions are owing to the shallowness of 
our ordinary life. The moment the plummet of con- 


\97 


sciousness sinks to the graver and sublimer portions 
of existence, the shadows of ignorance start up 
around us, throwing their awful shapes in every 
direction. We instantly feel our helplessness. Then 
it is natural to address our cry to the Mighty One 
who alone contains and saves all. The reason that 
most persons pray so little is that they have not the 
requisite experience out of which to compose a prayer. 
Let them depart from the shallows of sense and 
frivolity, put off in the deeps of the Spirit, entering 
into the boundless realities of being and destiny, and 
their thin complacency will quickly disappear, and 
they will find themselves crying unto God with irre¬ 
pressible earnestness. Religion springs out of those 
portions of our experience which overlap the known 
and finite, and open into communication with the 
unknown and infinite. It is obvious that the heart 
must be full before it can overflow in religious thought 
and aspiration. 

An experience made up of the superficialities of the 
world,—dress, visits, gossip, mechanical routine, money¬ 
making, selfish plots, and giddy amusements,—what 
is there in these to furnish the ground for faith and 
piety ? All the essential conditions for the transcend¬ 
ent exercises of religion are wanting. But break 
away from noisy shows, glittering and empty vanities, 
the piecemeal fritter of life; come home into your 
own heart and feel how lonely it is ; look off into 
boundless space and think how mysterious it is; 
confront the speechless secrets of futurity and reflect 
how momentous and how unknown they are, and 
17* 


98 


out of the depth of your emotions and solitude , a 

religious experience will surge up, lifting your soul to 
heaven in cries either of entreaty or of rapture. You 
will have left the shallows where souls are barren 
alike of awe, belief, and love, and have gone into the 
depths out of which souls aroused by spiritual verities, 
cry unto God. 

Religion is the personal intercourse of the soul 
with its God. Whatever shatters the outer crust of 
custom and formality, gives us a fresh experience of 
religion, and evokes the long silent cry of the soul. 
We are so overlaid with shallow affairs, and so 
absorbed in trifles, that our common life is profane ; 
but every thing that strikes to the centres of our 
hidden being reveals God so plainly that our loyalty 
breaks into open confession even without our will. 

A ship is steaming on her course in brooding fog 
over the mighty sea ; helmsman at his post, sentry 
pacing the deck, music and mirth in the cabin. 
Every thought is earthward and mortal. Suddenly 
an ice-mountain, death throned on its summit , reels 
upon them. Sinking on their knees, every soul 
reverts to its primitive instincts, and out of the depth 
of danger , they unitedly cry unto God. 

In the average tenor of ease or success we glide 
glibly along on the outside of things, with little heed, 
and less reverence. The portents of doom disturb 
us not. Divinity and heaven are very far away, and 
interest us not. But let disappointment come and 
smite our plans ; let disaster struggle with the life¬ 
long enterprise on which so wildly we have set our 


T 99 


hearts ; let grief and fear descend on us, and as we 
tug forebodingly with misfortune all our gayety 
vanishes, and out of the depth of trial we cry unto 
God—God the Deliverer. 

So, if we care for nothing save self, we can go on 
our way awhile merry or indifferent. But if the in¬ 
most treasures and fibres of our hearts are bound up 
in the destiny of another, as the dear object moves 
among the risks of time and fortune, with what 
suspense our spirits follow and tremble, recognizing 
that their all, embarked in a frail vessel, is set on a 
single hazard! Then, intensely feeling our own 
powerlessness to give the needed guidance and 
guardianship, out of the depth of yearning affection we 
cry unto God, the infinite, overseeing Love. 

When our work is congenial, our duty plain, our 
passions at rest, and the yoke of custom not galling, 
we find it easy to be satisfied with things as they are. 
We may feel no need of invisible fellowship, succor, 
or rescue. But often it is far otherwise with us. 
We are beset by flaming allurements which rouse the 
passions, startle conscience, and set the passions and 
conscience in deadly conflict. The clamor of desire 
sounds against the still small voice of reason. Pro¬ 
pensity pulls one way, principle another. The cold 
sweat is on the brow, bewilderment fills the mind, 
and we suffer as if torn asunder by wild horses. 
Then, as a last resource, we fall on our knees, and 
out of the agonizing depth of temptation , cry unto God 
for the light and reinforcement of His Spirit. 

Walking in our familiar paths, or sitting by the 


200 


domestic hearth, occupied with our usijal tasks or 
pleasures, everything that concerns us seemingly 
clear and safe, we may fully enjoy our friends, our 
minds may contentedly settle in themselves or repose 
on their cherished objects. But when we are left 
alone with ourselves, to struggle in utter solitude with 
our own overpowering emotions, and the dread 
problems of our destiny ; when our very souls seem 
bursting with the question, “ Must I be thus sepa¬ 
rated from my kind ? ” “ Is there no one in all this 

cold, wide world to whom I can pour out my heart 
and receive sympathy and counsel ? then, out of the 
painful depth of loneliness , the heart aches after God, 
and cries out for the reassurance of his consoling 
embrace. 

Again, there are innumerable relations between us 
and the illimitable extent and power of the surround¬ 
ing universe which in every hour of solemn thought 
overwhelm us with an almost insufferable sense of 
our ignorance and pettiness before what is revealed to 
us. For instance, when, at midnight, we reflect how 
the earth on which we dwell is darting through space, 
a thousand miles a minute, eternity yawning under¬ 
neath, the starry hosts in endless ranks rushing 
through immensity overhead, we are confounded, 
appalled, until out of the frightful depth of mystery , 
we cry unto God who knoweth all things. 

If the whole of these influences fail to sink us to 
the profound ranges of religious thought and feeling; 
if danger rouses us not, and trial does not pierce us, 
and love proves unable to thrill us, and we are 


unmoved by the anguish of temptation , and desertion 

strikes not to the sealed fountains of the heart, 
and no mystery suffices to overawe our stolidity, so 
that we continue to live among the shallows all 
throughout our days—yet there comes at length one 
experience that will totally disarm our pride, baffle 
our insensibility, and plunge us to the lowermost deep. 
The alarm flies through the pallid house of clay. 
The gaudy world disappears with its vain shows and 
promises. Self-delusion and self-conceit are no 
more. The soul gathers its powers together to 
depart. Darkness comes down, and a marvelous 
light, in which, alone, consciousness confronts its 
author. Surely, then, with an earnestness unparall¬ 
eled by anything in the hollow world of our previous 
experience, out of the depth of death , we shall cry 
unto God, only too happy if, sinking down into the 
gulf of nothingness, we can reach up and take hold 
of the hand of the Lord of Life. 

Every wise survey of our existence, every admoni¬ 
tion from sage or saint of other days, exhorts us to 
leave the shallows and advance into the deeps of life 
if we would ever achieve the experience of things 
divine and eternal. Be not content with the close, 
the obvious, the small. Seek to master also, or at 
least to commence with the far-reaching, the obscure, 
the inexhaustible, for among these religion lives and 
is nourished. 

The only deep and real religion is a pious personal 
obedience and awe of God, based directly on the liv¬ 
ing truth and mystery of things. And the depths of 


202 


human experience out of which needy souls cry unto 
God, are only the heights inverted. The concavity 
of heaven is just as profound in the lake as it is 
exalted in the sky. And the deep souls are the 
high ones. Those who stand with Christ on the 
Mount are the ones that descend with Him into 
Gethsemane. Those whose faith (even under their 
appearance of greater trust,) rests on the superficial 
and precarious basis of mere tradition, who, not con¬ 
tent with holding that God is in the Bible and the 
Church, narrowly affirm that He is not to be found 
anywhere else, can never have the immovable relig¬ 
ious assurance secured by the more generous believ¬ 
ers, who, gratefully recognizing the Divine agency in 
the Bible and the Church, also penetrate to recep¬ 
tacles of the Holy Spirit in the noblest monuments 
of human life everywhere, and in all the solemn 
departments of a history that records the perpetual 
brooding of the Holy Spirit upon that moral creation 
which in its beginning was “ without form and void.” 

So, also, envious and misanthropic fault-finders, 
who stay on the outside of humanity, picking flaws, 
are deprived of the richest joys of life. Such joys 
are known only to those who, with a generous good 
will, go down to the deep places of our nature, and 
embrace their brothers there heart to heart. We 
know how the eagle and the condor haunt the chill 
upper air and find it desolate enough, while the 
deeper strata of the atmosphere are warm and balmy, 
and there the nightingales sing among the roses, and 
sparrows snuggle, close and happy, in the bosom of 


the meadow. Who would not wish to forsake the 
frigid external of selfish pride and criticism, and 
yearn into the genial heart of life, where trust and 
affection make their home ? 

The great trial of those who really believe and love 
in this world is not the remoteness of God, is not the 
darkness of Providence, is not the poverty of exist¬ 
ence, but the rebuffs, the antipathies, and the indiffer¬ 
ence they meet from the shallow and the cruel. And 
even these become outward and harmless and lose 
their sting as the soul grows ripe with catholic insight 
and toleration. Be not deceived, therefore, let the 
preacher still say, be not disheartened, but persevere 
till you know what is concealed in the deepest 
recesses, ever sure that the best is there. How 
often is it so in human nature ? God is in all, and 
many things that look to us forbidding, or at best of 
but doubtful good, may be but dark and sometimes 
the soiled steps in the way to Paradise. Did not 
Christ himself declare to the self-righteous pom¬ 
posities of His day, “ The harlots shall go into the 
kingdom of heaven before you!” From many a 
mind, obscured by layers of hardness and vice, if you 
lift off the incrustations of sin and care and unbelief 
you may recognize, with tears and wonder, the Divine 
image still gleaming out upon you in miraculous 
beauty. A fine example of this secret to discover the 
divinest realities close at hand, simply by gazing 
deeply enough through the illusive concealments of 
sense and seeming, is furnished by the Oriental poet 
who says: 


“ There is a lump within man’s fleshly part; 

And in that lump is felt the living heart; 

And in that heart a deathless soul resides ; 

And in that soul a mystery abides ; 

And in that mystery a light doth glow ; 

And in that light learn thou thy God to know ! ” 

Piercing down from the surface, where most men live 
without religion at all except in profession and form, 
there are three depths from which they successively 
cry unto God, their cry in each instance bearing the 
tone and language of a different sentiment. 

First. When our easy life on the exterior is 
broken up by some sharp presentation, in direct 
experience, of the great questions of our destiny, dan¬ 
ger, and duty, we fall to the depth of a struggling 
loneliness, where our faith fails, our customary props 
are stricken away. Terrible doubts assail us and we 
lie prostrate at the mercy of the storm. Then, full 
of anxiety, we cry unto God in distress. 

Secondly. Should we prove faithful to ourselves 
in that dire trial of the soul, steadily seeking for the 
true and the good, in spite of fear and pain, the 
severity of the spiritual tempest soon abates ; a guid¬ 
ing light appears, and we sink from the terrified 
sense of personal responsibleness and exposure to the 
far profounder achievement of faith in the infinite 
Helper, direct confidence in his rule and grace, and 
an entire self-surrender to Him and His service. 
Then, full of joy at His unpurchased deliverance, we 
cry unto God in gratitude. 

But if we continue to press further through the 
problems of life, with faithful conformity of will to 


205 


the laws we discern, and to the divine, ordaining will, 
meekly bearing and enduring, even in lonesome agony, 
until the selfish personality is purged out of us, we 
shall in no wise always go without our reward. At 
every step coming into deeper sympathy and accord 
with truth and the life that truth begets, we see at 
last for ourselves the perfect harmony and beneficence 
of all truth. We grasp, in immediate perception the 
blessed unity of God’s universal plan. Then, satisfied 
with the insight, full of content and worship, we cry 
unto God out of the depths of peace. 

Leaving the life of superficial experiences, and 
penetrating the more mysterious realities of conscious¬ 
ness and the world,—anxiety, deliverance, and in¬ 
sight,—distress, gratitude, and peace,—these are the 
stations and these the sentiments, deep underneath 
deep, from which we cry unto God. Unfortunately 
there are many men and women to whom these state¬ 
ments will sound as an unknown language ; who are 
so outward and childish, so frivolously content with 
the glitter and flutter of society, that in all their life, 
they have never yet become aware that there are any 
deeps. The whole universe is one great shallow to 
them. This blankness of ignorance, this stolid com¬ 
placency, dancing over the magazine of destiny while 
the slow-matches of time and death are burning on, 
is the worst misfortune of all. The defect next in 
seriousness, the great common error of men, is that 
when they do become conscious of the deeps, it is 
only for a moment. They are afraid of them, and 
flee again for refuge unto unthinking gayety, or the 
18 


20 6 


endless round of worldly absorption. At the first 
touch of trouble, alarmed and irresolute, they shrink 
back to the surface of undisturbed habit or careless 
routine, to escape the terrors that are in the abyss. 
But not so will the true, brave heart do. Instead of 
suffering itself to be deterred by the first shocks and 
ghosts of doubt and fear, it should bravely face the 
phantoms and lay them ; press forward through them 
to the solid and smiling conquests of truth, of good, 
and of joy that lie waiting beyond. Flee before the 
spectres of doubt and skepticism, and they will drive 
you into the caves of terror and despair. Make them 
flee before you, and they will guide you to the arms 
of faith and knowledge. 

Because you find trouble in the deep places of life, 
shrink not timidly back to the shallows, but keep on, 
ever deeper and deeper, till you come to the eternal 
foundation of Divine law and administration where 
peace pervades the air and bliss flows like the sea. 
A highly educated Englishman, a graduate of Oxford 
university, emigrated with his family to California, 
where he bought a piece of land and machinery, and 
began to dig for gold. After three years of persever¬ 
ing labor and ruinous expenditure he gave up the 
enterprise as hopeless ; and in a fit of despair and 
madness, cut the throats of his wife and children and 
then blew out his own brains. A little later a party 
began to dig again in the deep shaft he had aban¬ 
doned. Four inches below the level where he had 
given up, they came to a vein of gold of fabulous 
richness and extent. Four inches deeper, and instead 


207 


of a murderer, a millionaire ! How many men pierc¬ 
ing into obscure questions have been beset with dark¬ 
ness and confusion, oppressed by doubts and fears, 
and prematurely abandoned themselves to despair, 
when a little more patient determination, a little 
firmer poise of thought and faith, a little deeper sink¬ 
ing of the shaft of reason, and the dimness and dis¬ 
tress would all have fled, and they would have reached 
the point at which the unquenchable radiance of a 
heavenly light would have burst -upon their heads. 
Remember, therefore, if ever perplexed and disturbed 
that it is a false evasion to turn back to the retreats 
of indifference and shallowness ; that the true way is 
to keep on with determined earnestness, penetrating 
from the level of darkness and confusion to the vaster 
level of light and order. This is the only genuine 
triumph or permanent relief ; all other expedients 
are but temporary avoidances. If we do invoke the 
thousand nothings of the hour to put aside or drown 
the too importunate monitions of our more profound 
life, yet, ever and anon, in darker passages of experi¬ 
ence, they will return. The only remedy is to fulfill 
them, not try to escape from them. When the Divine 
voice calls, let the reverent, seeking spirit answer; 
“ Here am I.” 

For his perfect deliverance, freedom, and peace, 
man must think so deeply as to see his life “ hidden in 
God.” So the Apostle Paul said he saw his life 
“ hidden with Christ in God.” It is a long and weary 
path of oft-baffied, ever repeated efforts, of painful 
experience and profound reflection. But it must be 



208 


trodden, if our aspirations are worthy and are to 
reach their ultimate destiny. And the goal is unspeaka- 
ably glorious, though few there seem to be in our day 
who reach it. It is related that the heir of the throne 
of Bohemia once sent to his betrothed an iron egg, 
which she, disdaining a gift apparently so unworthy, 
threw to the earth. A hidden spring was struck by 
the ground, and a silver yolk rolled out. Picking up 
the yolk, she hit another spring, and a golden bird 
was revealed. She touched in the bird another spring, 
and a sapphire crown appeared. Then pressing a 
final spring in the crown, she found a diamond ring, 
happy token of her destined marriage with the prince. 
The visible creation is such a gift proffered by God 
to man. It only needs an experience sufficiently 
penetrating to arouse the soul from its sluggish habits 
of routine and surface-drifting to enable any one now 
to enter into all the hopes and fears known to the 
master minds, the spiritual heroes, and prophets of the 
elder time. And whoever repeats their conscious¬ 
ness in its profound intensity will again employ their 
language in its original significance. And no other 
ever can. Ah ! what a difference it makes in the 
utterances of a teacher whether genuine experience 
and authority breathe in his words, or mere conven¬ 
tionality, and form, and vanity. One preacher speaks, 
and it is only the shallow babbling of frigid lips ; 
another speaks, and instantly, from depth to depth, 
goes the living power of truth. There can be no 
profound utterance unless a profound experience has 
preceded it. The text is an admirable instance: 


209 


“ Out of the depths have I cried unto Thee, O Lord.” 
Thus spake the psalmist so many ages ago. Strug¬ 
gling in the same world, amid the same experiences, 
in this far-modern day, can we not catch and in all 
sincerity echo back the pious strain, feeling that our 
individual life is bound up with the collective life of 
all our race, so that not we alone but the whole of 
mankind are plunged in the depths, and are crying 
unto God, groaning and travailing together for the 
redemption of the creation ? 

Up from the deeps, O God I cry to Thee ; 

Hear the soul’s prayer, hear Thou their litany, 

O Thou who callest, “ Wanderer, come to me.” 

Up from the deeps of sorrow, wherein lie 
Dark secr.ets veiled from earth’s unpitying eye, 

My prayers, like star-crowned angels, heavenward fly. 

Up from the deeps of sin, no longer free, 

But chained in strife and torn with agony, 

My spirit cries, “ Lord, give me victory! ” 

Not from the shallows whose dull waters sleep, 

A lazy marsh, where stagnant vapors creep,— 

But ocean-voiced, deep calling unto deep. 

As he of old. King David, called to thee, 

Out of the depths of poor humanity 
I cry in faith, “ O God, deliver me ! ” 

April 27, 1877. 


18* 












■. e 


SERMON XII. 

“THE NATION’S SORROW.” 

Text, Ecclesiastes 2, 14. 

“ And I myself perceived that one event happeneth to them 
all.” 

2d Kings 2, 3. 

“ Knowest thou that the Lord will take away thy master from 
thy head to-day? And he said, Yea, I know it; hold ye your 
peace.” 

Scripture lesson, Psalm 27, and Psalm 31, 1-3 and 15. 


XII. 


We meet in the house of God to-day, my friends, 
under circumstances of the greatest public grief and 
sorrow. A sudden and awful calamity has fallen upon 
the nation. For the second time within the life of a 
single generation, the President of these United States, 
the personal representative of the honor, glory, and 
dignity of this nation, the man of the people’s choice, 
the man whom we had been led to believe that God 
had raised up and signally qualified for the duties of 
the great office which he had been called to fill,— 
consummate in wisdom, unfaltering in integrity, great 
in goodness, and good in greatness,—has fallen the 
victim of murderous assassination. After long and 
weary weeks of painful watching, between alternating 
hopes and fears, since the fatal blow was first ‘struck 
which has made all civilized peoples a race of unfeigned 
mourners, the sad and startling intelligence which 
has flashed along the wires from the heart of our 
nation to the ends of the habitable earth, has prostra¬ 
ted us in the depths of affliction, and pierced the great 
heart of America with unutterable anguish. We 
pause in the profoundest astonishment. Our indig¬ 
nation in one direction, and our great sorrow in the 
other, are past all utterance. The American people 
never felt as they do to-day. They never before had 
such an occasion for feeling. The dreadful blow has 


213 


fallen upon us like a thunderbolt in the middle of our 
assured prosperity, and in the midst of our joys. To 
the deep and pungent thrill of the national heart no 
human words can do any adequate justice. 

I. Looking now towards earth and at men, we 
instinctively ask : Why has the assassinating hand 
sought the life of James A. Garfield ? Why‘was the 
President of these United States marked for death ? 
The answer is a plain one. It consists in the fact 
that he was the President, officially intrusted with the 
executive duty of administering the power of this 
government for the maintenance of law and of the 
constituted forms of authority. This was Mr. Gar¬ 
field’s sole offence. The poor, miserable, murderous 
wretch who is made conspicuous only by the dastardly 
character of his cruel deed, did not aim his weapon at 
his victim as a man , but as the President of these 
United States, as God’s minister for the punishment 
of evil doers, and the praise of them that do well. 
It was therefore aimed at you and at me, at every 
man, woman, and child living under the protection of 
this government; at public order; at the sanctity of 
law; at the purity of the public service, and at the 
God who commands our subjection to the powers that 
be. This is the true interpretation of the blow 
sought to be struck ; and this it is that gives signifi¬ 
cance to the act. We look upon Mr. Garfield as a 
murdered President, and not as a man falling in the 
private walks of life, the victim of a purely personal 
vengeance. The life-blood that flowed from his lacer¬ 
ated wound, was, in the circumstances, official blood. 


214 


The pistol shot that hurried him to his doom, was 
fired into the heart of the nation. I do not wish to 
stir either your passions or my own to undue violence; 
yet I think it best in this dreadful hour to look at 
facts as they are, and speak of things as they are. 
James A. Garfield,—with Abraham Lincoln,—will go 
down to posterity as a murdered and a martyred 
President, slain for discharging his duty, honored by 
God, and trusted by a grateful people. In his death, 
we all feel the pangs of death. Well may a nation 
bow in grief. Well may all partisan feeling subside, 
while a whole people weep before God under an 
oppressive sense of the calamity which has befallen 
them. 

II. Looking now, secondly, at the circumstances 
attending this sad event, we inquire, Whence came 
the blow ? The act was done under circumstances 
that clearly indicate the more remote and original 
sources, as well as that which was immediate and 
personal . It is evident that no persons were privy to 
this assassinating act, except the henceforth nameless, 
countryless, raceless being who committed it, and yet 
the whole measure of responsibility for the outrage 
cannot be charged upon him. As the act by which 
Abraham Lincoln was made a martyr was the climax 
of treason and rebellion, so as truly, the act that gave 
to Mr. Garfield the eminent glory of being the second 
martyred President was the legitimate fruit, the con¬ 
summating act of that intense partisanship and 
chicanery in politics which to the lust for power and 
the opportunity for official plundering, sacrifices in- 


215 


tegrity and honor, and all that a true statesmanship 
holds dear. The act differs more in the degree of its 
moral turpitude, and the horror it inspires in the 
hearts of all true men, than in its essential quality 
from that of petulantly deserting a post of honorable 
duty, and leaving the government disorganized and a 
prey to anarchy for the self-same reason; viz.: a dis¬ 
appointed lust for office. Partisanship fired that shot. 
Partisanship killed the President, and partisanship 
made the man and the men fit for such deeds. And 
partisanship wants nothing but power, even at the 
expense of the life of the nation, as well as that of its 
beloved Chief Executive. 

III. Looking again at this sorrowful event, I am 
led to raise another question. Who are the mourners , 
the men and women, that are afflicted by this appall¬ 
ing tragedy ? The family of our dead President, his 
wife, children, aged mother, and immediate kindred, 
are at this moment plunged into the most heart-rend¬ 
ing sorrow. He who was the pride and glory of their 
lives, whose relation to them had lifted them to 
position and honor; in whose private and public 
character they could not but rejoice, has fallen in a 
way to give death its deepest affliction and grief its 
most pungent sting. Alas! for them, the husband, 
the father, and the guide is no more! The God of 
grace comfort them with that comfort which God 
only can supply. All true men and women through¬ 
out the nation are mourners to-day. Every right- 
thinking man feels that he has lost a dear friend. 
During his brief administration, as well as during a 


216 


long and useful career in the public service, Mr. Gar¬ 
field has displayed qualities of intellect and heart, 
which have commended him to the strongest confi¬ 
dence and affection of the American people. His 
sterling honesty, his sagacious and far-reaching 
common sense, his abiding faith, his fidelity to his 
country both in times of war and in times of peace, 
his profound respect for the rights of man, and his 
deep reverence for God, mark him as the man whom 
the people loved. Millions who never saw him, felt 
towards him the tender attachment of personal friend¬ 
ship. There was a charm about his character and 
his life which it is not in human nature to defy or 
resist. Go where you will to-day throughout the 
length and breadth of this land, into the cottages of 
the poor, or the palaces of the rich, and you will see 
a people bowed in sorrow. A nation weeps to-day. 
A Nation’s President has fallen in the midst of his 
usefulness, when his experience was so much needed ; 
and now a nation mourns as perhaps no other people 
ever did mourn. When I think of the foul and villain¬ 
ous murderer, and of the generic inspiration which he 
represents, by which he was moved, my indignation, 
I confess, knows no bounds ; and when I think of the 
sequel of that deadly shot, my heart sinks within me. 
As I feel, so you feel; and so feels every man who 
deserves the name of an American citizen. Honored 
and sacred dead! This tribute we bring to thy 
memory. Thy name shall be dear to us. Thou art 
embalmed in a nation’s grief. 

And, my hearers, as the sad news has crossed the 


217 


waters, and sped its way over the nations of the 
world, all lovers and friends of humanity have stood 
aghast with surprise. They join us in our public 
sorrows. The excitement and grief caused by this 
fearful tragedy is world-wide. The memory of the 
scenes of watching, of anxiety, of heroic courage, and 
of conquering faith, at the capital of the nation, and 
by the sea, will last as long as time endures. Alas ! 
alas! for my country, when her'President, her men in 
high office, her patriots, her good and great men, 
must fall before the dagger of an assassin ! Let the 
power of God expurgate from such a soil the inhu¬ 
man monster that is capable of such a deed, and the 
still more accursed spirit that he represents. They 
are not fit to inhabit a country they so grossly dis¬ 
honor. Leaving now any further contemplation of 
the tragic event by which the nation has been 
bereaved, let us turn to look at the life and the 
character of him who has been so suddenly removed 
from the position of honor and duty to which a great 
people had called him. It would involve an almost 
unworthy reflection upon the intelligence of my 
hearers, if I should attempt an extended sketch of the 
life of Mr. Garfield. The records of an earnest and 
warmly contested political campaign have not been 
written a twelve-month. In those records, and 
through the medium of the newspaper press of our 
country, during the last eleven weeks, every fact of 
interest relating to the President’s career, from his 
childhood to the day when he yielded up his life in 
the cottage by the sea, has been repeatedly spread 
19 


218 


before the people of this country, until the smallest 
school-boy in the land would be ashamed to be found 
ignorant of it. 

The wilderness of Cuyahoga county, in the State 
of Ohio, furnished him but little more than a birth¬ 
place, with a rude log house to shelter his infancy. 
At the date of that event, which occurred on the 19th 
of Nov., 1831, that portion of his native State was 
little more than a howling wilderness. The death of 
his father when our President had only reached the 
early age of two years, left him to the care of his 
widowed mother in the midst of extreme poverty, 
with three other children all older than himself. 
That noble woman who, like her husband, was of 
New England ancestry, not only bravely struggled 
through life under the burdens that were thus left to 
her hard lot, but so impressed upon her son the 
noblest qualities of her own character, and so devel¬ 
oped that which was truest and most worthy in him, 
as to lay well the stable foundations of his future 
greatness. The story of his earlier toils and strug¬ 
gles is too familiar to be repeated. The wood-chopper 
becomes the hero of the tow-path, ~and a little later 
the ambitious. youth working his way through 
Williams’ College. Then as a school teacher; and 
afterwards as a professor in Hiram College; and a 
little later as President of the same institution, he 
makes honorable record of his eminent qualifications 
for this department of labor. His fellow-citizens 
were already beginning to discern the promise of 
future eminence, and had called him to public service 


219 


in the Senate Chamber of his native State, when the 
bursting of the fast gathering storm of civil strife 
upon our land roused to the highest pitch his patriotic 
spirit and led him to the midst of the conflict. Here, 
with no previous military training, he speedily devel¬ 
oped remarkable strategic skill, and rose by rapid 
well-earned promotion, until his daring intrepidity on 
the hotly contested field of Chicamauga won for him 
the rank of Major-General. And forever, henceforth, 
the name of that battlefield—whose victory was won 
on the same day, in the same month as that on which 
his noble spirit rose victorious over death,—will be 
coupled with that of the martyred President. At the 
call of his State, and urgently constrained by the 
lamented Lincoln, he left the camp and the battle¬ 
field for the halls of Congress in 1863, and there 
remained in the very front rank of large-minded and 
patriotic American statesmen, until the nation, with¬ 
out seeking of his own, summoned him to the highest 
office in its gift, the highest office in the world. 
Four months of wearying work in his new position, 
he was permitted to perform, and then was preparing 
to start on a brief pleasure trip, for well-earned rest 
and recreation, when he was shot in the back by a 
cowardly assassin. The details of his lingering and 
heroic suffering are too painful to be narrated. They 
are o£ thrilling interest, more than anything else, for 
the example of the heroic endurance and conquering 
faith which he made conspicuous to the end; and 
likewise for the inexpressible charm, beauty, and 
sweetness, of the sublime fortitude and devotion, of 


220 


the truest, noblest type of womanhood that God ever 
permitted to bless with her faith and love the man of 
whom with her, He had said, “ They twain shall be 
one.” 

Garlands upon his grave, 

And flowers upon his hearse, 

And to the tender heart and brave 
The tribute of this verse. 

Were a star quenched on high, 

For ages would its light, 

Still traveling downward from the sky, 

Shine on our mortal sight. 

So, when a good man dies, 

For years beyond our ken, 

The light he leaves behind him lies 
Upon the paths of men. 

Let me now speak to you a few words as to his 
character. By the concurrent testimony of the whole 
nation, expressed in private and public, by the voice 
of his comrades and compeers in the field and in the 
halls of congress, and through the press, he was a 
peerless man among men. It would be hard to say 
what particular gifts and traits made him great. He 
was a man of eminent intellectual gifts, an orator of 
no mean fame and of fervid eloquence, a statesman 
who stood high in the front ranks among the greatest 
men of his age. But it was the fine balance of his 
powers, I think, the beautiful adjustment of intellect¬ 
ual and moral qualities with admirable judgment and 
unique individuality of character, speech, and action, 
which constituted the general excellence of the man. 
In this happy combination of characteristics, without 


221 


the striking preponderance of any one intellectual 
gift, I have the impression that he was not unlike our 
matchless Washington. His was no amiable insipidity, 
nor negative virtue. He was a positive, spirited, 
direct, energetic man, full of a latent fire which often 
burned from the depths of his soul through all his 
movements, and set the hearts of those around him 
in a flame. Yet a more gentle spirit never moved in 
human breast. He was the true gentleman in be¬ 
havior, in manners and in mind, in private and in 
public life. Few men enjoyed a better reputation for 
the essential virtues of human character amid the 
temptations of public life. 

But it was the religion of Jesus Christ which gave 
Mr. Garfield his chief distinction. He was a Chris¬ 
tian gentleman, a Christian scholar, a Christian phil¬ 
anthropist, and a Christian statesman. His honesty 
and integrity, his eloquence and his power were all, 
like himself, “ baptized into the name of the Father, 
and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.” “ The blood 
of sprinkling ” was upon the posts of his doors, on his 
family, his calling, on every service that he rendered 
to his country or to God. Such I think I am fully 
justified in saying are the leading characteristics of 
the man whom a nation mourns with unaffected grief 
to-day. 

* IV. I am led now to another remark : that the 
blow by which the death of our beloved President was 
compassed has signally failed in the accomplishment 
of its ultimate purpose. Its victim is dead, but the 
cause which he represented and for which he endured 

19* 


222 


martyrdom is not only not stricken, but is strength¬ 
ened. Men bate the low, scrambling partisanship of 
ward politics the more, and love the integrity of a 
true statesmanship, and the purity of political admin¬ 
istration better. The nation is dissolved but only in 
tears, and stands more square and solid to-day than 
any pyramid in Egypt. The government is not 
weakened, it is strengthened; strengthened by a 
deeper spirit of loyalty to its fundamental principles, 
and a stronger determination to establish the purity 
of its administration. The lesson is one that has 
been learned at terrible cost, but its value is above all 
price—even the price of our beloved martyr’s blood. 

Turning, now, from this line of thought, and look¬ 
ing above all the scenes of earth, and contemplating 
God as sitting upon the throne of Eternal Providence, 
permitting and ordering all things after the counsel 
of His own will, I say to you, my brethren, while dis¬ 
charging' the duties of the Present, trust His Provi¬ 
dence for the Future. At the feet of that Providence 
our beloved President had early learned to sit, and 
sought to walk in its ways. This Providence has 
permitted what seems to us an untimely fall. I can¬ 
not explain it; I shall not try ; yet I am comforted 
with the thought that God has made no mistake. 
Under His Providence all men are immortal until 
their work is done; and then they go the way of all 
the earth by an arrangement, which in Heaven is no 
error, however painful it may be to men. Hitherto, 
we believe, the God of nations has made our cause 
His care, imposing upon us a severe discipline for 


223 


our good; and now He has permitted this great 
calamity for some wise reason, perhaps now perfectly 
simple to the enlarged intelligence of our President 
in Heaven. On earth we may never see this reason ; 
yet the Lord knows, and this should suffice us. Let 
us bow in faith and weep in hope. God’s government 
is not dead. God’s Providence is not dead. These 
will prevail when empires perish. No fiendish hand 
can strike the supremacy of God’s throne. No assas¬ 
sin’s shot can suspend His control in human affairs. 

u God moves in a mysterious way, 

His wonders to perform; 

He plants his foot-steps in the sea, 

And rides upon the storm. 

Deep in unfathomable mines 
Of never-failing skill, 

He treasures up His bright designs, 

And works His sovereign will.” 

Still another thought befits this occasion. 

Lastly: Even he who now sleeps has by this 
event been clothed with new influence. Dead he 
speaks to men who now willingly hear that to which, 
before, they shut their ears. Like the words of Wash¬ 
ington and Lincoln, will his simple, mighty words be 
pondered by your children and children’s children. 
Men will receive a new accession to their love of 
patriotism and of a pure statesmanship, and will for 
his sake guard with more zeal the welfare of the whole 
country. On the altar of this martyred patriot I 
adjure you to be more faithful to your country. As 


224 


men follow his hearse, or bare their bowed heads as 
his sacred dust is borne to its resting place, pledge 
each other a new hatred, and an eternal hostility to 
that foul spirit which has made him a martyr, and 
would not stop at the sacrifice of a thousand similar 
patriots. By the solemn spectacle of a nation follow¬ 
ing him to the place of his sepulture, and of the whole 
civilized world clad in the habiliments of grief to-day, 
I adjure you to declare renewed hostility to that 
vaunting spirit that seeks its own, at whatever and by 
whatever methods, and that would even choose to 
“ Rule in Hell rather than serve in Heaven,” and to 
maintain a never-ending pursuit of it to its grave. 
Men will admire and imitate our beloved President, 
his firmness in justice, his inflexible conscience for 
the right, his kindness and moderation of spirit; and 
I adjure you faithfully to copy those preeminent 
qualities that shall illume his name through all the 
future with a halo of imperishable glory. 

You I can comfort, but who shall comfort the 
hearts of that innermost circle to whom his coming 
was always as the coming of the morning light; and 
to whom his presence was like the sweetness of the 
breath of the flowers ; nay, was a benediction from 
the very lips of God ? His infinite gentleness alone 
can touch their wounded spirits so tenderly that heal¬ 
ing shall be in that touch. With reverent faith, and 
all the tenderness of loving sympathy, v^e leave them 
with the Great Healer ! 

Oh, there will be wailing for him in city and town, 
in hamlet and cottage, in woods, and on prairies and 



225 


wilds, until the subdued cry from the hearts of fifty 
millions people comes up into the ears of the God of 
all comfort, who shall say to all the ministers of His 
grace; “ Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith the 
Lord of Hosts.” 


And now the martyr is moving in triumphal march, 
mightier than when alive. The nations rise up at 
his coming. Cities and States are his pall-bearers, 
and cannon beat the hours with solemn procession, 
and I see, as it were the finger of God pointing the 
way for the triumphal host. The supreme hour for 
the fulfillment of the Divine purpose is being struck, 
and the tones reverberate through all the enthralled 
nations of the earth. 

The redeemed of God have become the redeemers of 
their fellow-men. 

Dead! dead! dead! he yet speaketh ! Is Lincoln 
dead ? Is Washington dead ? Is Hampden dead ? 
Is David dead ? Now, disenthralled of flesh, and 
risen to the unobstructed sphere where passion never 
comes, he begins his illimitable work. His life is 
grafted upon the Infinite, and will be fruitful now as 
no earthly life can be. 

Pass on, O thou ransomed crowned martyr of God, 
thou hast overcome ! 

Your sorrows, O ye people, are his pean ! Your 
bells, and bands, and muffled drums sound in his ear 
a triumph. You wail and weep here ; God makes it 
triumph there. 

Few months ago, O, heart of the West, we took 



226 


him from your midst, for the great work to which a 
free people called him. Behold, we return him a 
mighty conqueror! Not yours to-day , but the nations ; 
not ours to-day , but the world's ! Give him place , ye 
prairies ! 

In the midst of this great continent his dust shall 
rest, a sacred treasure to myriads who shall make 
pilgrimage to that shrine, to kindle anew their zeal 
and patriotism. Ye winds that move over the mighty 
spaces of the West, chant his requiem ! Ye people, 
behold a martyr, whose blood, as articulate words, 
pleads for fidelity, for honor, for law, for liberty. * 

IN MEMORIAM—J. A. G. 


In peace, at last! amid the hush of strife, 

Our Ruler sleeps, secure from plaint or blame : 

The tragedy and triumph of his life 

Blend in the splendor of unfading fame. 

Our prayers and tears poured out like summer rain, 
Stayed not the Hand that works by pain and loss ; 

His will be done, whose love ordains again 
The bitter Cup, the Garden, and the Cross. 

Great heart; brave soul; capacious, cultured mind; 
Most gallant foe ; most gentle, generous friend ; 

Scholar and soldier ; statesman, of the kind 
Who purity with self-devotion blend ! 

The true unswerving aim, the purpose high, 

The faithful patient service wear their crown : 

No sacrifice that loyalty could try 

But shines, transfigured, in his bright renown. 



Not less the nation’s than the household loss ; 

Nor less the public tha-n the private woe ; 

His country’s children share his children’s cross,— 

Their tears of love and grief together flow. 

Life’s work well done, life’s battle bravely fought, 

And life itself poured out in duty’s ways ; 

Hallowed by death what lips and life had taught, 

And name and memory wreathed with deathless praise ; 

Thy glory, like some newly-dawning sun, 

Resplendent breaks through our dark cloud of fate ! 
Immortal honor thou hast dearly won ! 

Nor richer thou than we, in thine estate. 

O good and faithful servant! fare thee well! 

“ Well done ! ” innumerable voices cry! 

And happier throngs our salutations swell 

With “ Welcome! ” “Welcome ! ” from the answering sky. 

E. P. Parker. 

Sept. 24, 1881. 










SERMON XIII. 

“THE DISCIPLES’ JOY.” 

Text, Luke *24, 52. 

“And they worshipped Him, and returned to Jerusalem with 
great joy.” 


20 












XIII. 


He had just parted from them. On this side of 
the grave they were never to see Him again ; never 
again would their hearts burn within them as they 
listened to His voice. He had been everything to 
them ; He had lifted them from common thoughts to 
thoughts of God ; He had made life a new thing to 
them, with new hopes and new aims. They had seen 
him live, they had seen him die, they had seen him 
after his death, and found that he was still the same 
loving and mighty Friend,—loving them “even unto 
the end.” And now He was gone, and they were left 
alone; “and they returned to Jerusalem with great 
joy.” You have never heard of any parting that 
seemed to you in any way like this,—where sorrow 
was so wholly drowned in joy, where feebleness on 
earth was so clothed upon as by the might of heaven. 
We have read of holy death-beds and triumphant 
martyrdoms, where faith had won its victory over 
doubt and fear, though scarcely over sorrow. Even 
now, while we speak, Jesus in His Resurrection is 
standing by the death-bed of many a Christian man 
and woman, turning the humblest soul into a temple 
of the Most High. Not an hour passes but some¬ 
where in the wide Christian world some devout hearts, 
as they catch the last breath of some beloved friend, 
whisper to themselves, with undoubting confidence, 


231 


“Thanks be unto God, who always causeth us to 
triumph through our Lord Jesus Christ.” Still, even 
here, though there may be thankfulness, there can 
scarcely be joy, still less exultation. But before the 
parting on the mount of the Ascension, all thought 
of loss seems to be absent. Nothing is here for 
tears. It is a scene not so much of parting as of 
triumph. These loved and loving friends, from whose 
sight and hearing their Master has just been lifted, 
will not even think of bereavement or of loneliness. 
They return to the city in which they were all stran¬ 
gers, not with the sorrow of mourners, but. with the 
great joy of conquerors. And why was this ? What 
had he last said to them ? We know the spell of 
farewell words; we know what it is when a dying 
parent, or a dying sister says^ “ We shall all meet 
again.” Such farewell words have a strange power 
to comfort, to soothe, and to persuade of an unseen 
world. But what had been His farewell words? 
Had He spoken of the joys of heaven, or “of the rest 
which remaineth for the children of God,” of the 
“many mansions” in His Father’s house, of His 
going to prepare a place for them, of His coming 
again at some near or, perhaps, some distant day to 
receive them unto Himself and to make his abode 
with them ? Nothing of all this. We cannot, 
indeed, tell how far such blessed promises held out to 
them some weeks before, and then but little under¬ 
stood, came back to them at this most solemn 
moment and gave them strength to bear. But His 
parting words were not of this kind, not “ I will see 


232 


you again and your hearts shall rejoice, and your joy 
no man shall take from you,” but rather words of 
this kind, “Thus it is written, and thus it behoves the 
Messiah to suffer and to rise from the dead the third 
day, and that repentance - and remission of sins should 
be preached in His name among all nations, and ye 
are witnesses of these things; and then ye. shall 
receive power after the Holy Ghost is come upon 
you, and ye shall be witnesses unto me, both in Jerusa¬ 
lem, and in all Judea, and Samaria, to the uttermost 
parts of the earth. And when He had spoken these 
things, while they beheld, He was taken up, and a 
cloud received Him out of their sight” 

Shall we be wrong in saying as they returned to 
Jerusalem in great joy, the secret of their joy was 
this: That they knew, weak as they were, their 
Master had overcome the world, and had given them 
a noble work to do for Him ? It was not so much 
the thought of seeing Him again with the eyes of the 
body, but rather the thought of working for Him, of 
witnessing to Him, of declaring how great and how 
good He had been and was, and how He brought all 
men to know Him and to love Him as they had 
known and loved Him. This, I think, seems to have 
been the root of this strange—this more than earthly 
joy. And this joy seems never to have left them. 
You must have noticed what a joyful book is the Acts 
of the Apostles ? I think I am correct in saying that 
you will hardly anywhere throughout its victorious 
pages find a note of depression. Though some con¬ 
fess it to be rather gloomy reading, as though men 


233 


were struggling with a burden too heavy for them to 
bear; yet, as you move on from chapter to chapter, 
you seem to be marching along the sacred way shar¬ 
ing the triumph of a conqueror returning from his 
wars. Everywhere you find this singleness of heart; 
everywhere you find that amazing boldness which is 
the child of conviction and joy. “ Now when they 
saw the boldness of Peter and John, and perceived 
that they were not learned but ignorant men, they 
marveled, and they took knowledge of them that they 
had been with Jesus.” It is the same throughout. 
They “ spake the Word of God with boldness,” “with 
great power gave the Apostles witness of the resur¬ 
rection of the Lord Jesus.” And when once persecu¬ 
tion had fairly set in, and they had been arrested by 
the chief religious tribunal of their country, and had 
been scourged by them, and commanded not to speak 
any more in the name of Jesus, was there found at 
last any inlet for depression and despondency ? Do we 
see any traces of that yearning which was wrung from 
the heart even of the heroic Baptist, “ Art Thou He 
that should come, or do we look for another ?” No. 
This is what we read: “ They departed from the 
presence of the council with rejoicing,” rejoicing that 
they were counted worthy to suffer shame for His 
name. The spell of the Ascension was still upon 
them; their Master’s words had been made good; 
they had already become witnesses to Him ; they had 
already been endowed with power from on high. 

My friends, it is still possible to work for our 
Master with this Ascension spell upon us. It is not 
20 * 


234 


fanaticism, it is sober faith which makes us still 
believe in His words about the undying prophecy 
which were not wholly fulfilled on the day of Pente¬ 
cost. “Ye shall be baptized with the Holy Ghost 
not many days hence.” Account for it as we may, 
He does put into the hearts of one and another of his 
servants, old and young, men and women, an eager 
passion to do this work, and an intense joy in the 
doing of it. We are dealing with no theological 
subtlety as to the merits of this work ; we draw no 
distinction—we really do not know how to draw any 
distinction between work done in this spirit, and that 
faith which is the absolute devotion of a man’s whole 
being to his Lord and Saviour. 

We look to the Acts of the Apostles, and we look 
also to the acts of all Christian men and women as we 
have read of them in books, or seen them with our 
eyes ; and we see that as a matter of fact Christ has 
inspired and does inspire a sense of victorious joy 
among those who believe that they are working in 
His cause. This joy is not for the moment, it is not 
evanescent; it is a joy which is personal, which is 
tranquil, which is given to each, and abides with each. 
It is not a contagious joy of excited multitudes, each 
stimulating the so-called enthusiasm of his neighbor. 
To find a comparison that will help us to understand 
the peculiar quality of this joy, I will turn to one of 
the notable events in English history. At the time 
of what is called the Restoration, when the royal 
family that had been deposed in the time of Oliver 
Cromwell was restored to power, the historian 


235 


(Clarendon) tells us that “when on the nine and 
twentieth day of May, the restored monarch re-entered 
London on his birthday, the Lord Mayor of London 
met him with such protestations of joy as could 
hardly be imagined ; the concourse was so great that 
the king rode in a crowd from the. bridge to Temple 
Bar, all the companies of the city being in order on 
both sides, and giving loud hurrahs for His Majesty’s 
presence; and at Whitehall the two houses of Parlia¬ 
ment solemnly cast themselves at his feet with vows 
of affection and fidelity to the world’s end. In a word,” 
says the grave and sober historian, “the joy was inex¬ 
pressible and universal.” 

How, if at that moment of supreme loyalty the 
curtain of the future could have been drawn aside, 
would the vanity of merely human joy been revealed, 
if those whose hearts were then so full had been 
assured that he to whom God had given a training in 
kingliness almost more solemn than He gave even to 
David among the sheep-folds of Bethlehem would 
become in aftertimes a very by-word for all that 
makes a man blush for shameless profligacy and 
national dishonor ? But there is a joy which is not of 
this world, which no man can take from his fellow, a 
joy which no multitude can deepen or intensify, and 
no loss of leadership can ever disendow. It is the joy 
of working for that Divine and human friend who is 
“ the same yesterday' and to-day and forever,”—it is 
the joy of knowing that we are with Him at heart, 
working on the lines which He has traced. 

And, furthermore, how varying is this Christian joy 


236 

as the gifts and the ages of men and women, and 
even little ones ! 

There is the joy which the world scarcely suspects 
of the solitary Christian student of the Scriptures. 
It may seem to the thoughtless but a small matter 
whether this or that text contains the higher authority, 
whether this or that phrase be chosen by the trans¬ 
lator to express the workings of Him who inhabiteth 
the earth ; but to the student there is a great joy in 
the assurance that everything he can gather of solemn 
truth is an offering to Him who is the Truth Him¬ 
self ; that every successful effort to replace some doubt 
by some certainty enables him already, and, it may be, 
will enable others hereafter, to plant the foot some¬ 
where beyond the bounds of time. The great scholar 
Erasmus, says, “ Happy is the man whom death sur¬ 
prises while engaged on these sacred writings.” We 
might change but little his words to apply them to the 
marvelous development of study of God’s Holy Word 
in our own day; “ Happy is the man whom death sur¬ 
prises while engaged in studying or teaching God’s 
Word.” 

For this Word let us thirst; this Word let us em¬ 
brace ; let it be with us through life, let it be with us 
in death ; let it transform us into its own image, for it 
is the mission of that Word to bring before us the 
living picture of that sacred mind, and to show us 
Christ Himself speaking, living, dying, and rising 
again with real presence, so real that if we could see 
Him with the eyes of the body, we should see Him 
less clearly than with the eyes of the soul. Yes, 


237 


brethren, and we know that the man who, by his 
patient study, and that mental insight which such 
vigils only sharpen, enables others to gain worthier 
views of Almighty God. It was the exhortation of 
one of the greatest Popes to a Christian emperor so 
to use his earthly power as to enlarge the road to 
heaven. 

We claim honor, too, for the student of God’s Word 
who helps his brethren to think less narrowly of God ; 
and who, like Peter, startles them with the ever fresh 
discovery, “ God hath shewed me that I should call 
nothing common or unclean ; ” or who, like Paul, 
reminds them, in spite of a thousand prejudices, that 
God “ hath made of one blood all nations of men or 
who, like John, insists on the great saying—itself the 
Magna Charta of the Church’s freedom—“ Other 
sheep have I, which are not of this fold; them, also, I 
must bring, and they shall hear my voice ; and there 
shall be one fold and one shepherd.” 

Or, passing from the joy of the student of God’s 
Word—the thinker—to those whose strength lies 
rather in action, you, brethren, who are working in 
any way for Christ as Christian men of business— 
Christian manufacturers, Christian merchants, Chris¬ 
tian lawyers, Christian physicians, as helpers in the 
Sunday-schools, or in the home, will know that this is 
a joy of which no man and no change can ever deprive 
you. You have your discouragements and your dis¬ 
appointments ; the causes for which you labor are not 
always in the ascendant, and things that you have 
held sacred from your youth may seem to you to be 


238 


changed by profanation of their use. Many things 
in Church and in State seem vulgarized, as though 
men’s minds had become too small to grasp them. 
But still in your work for Christ and not for man, you 
find a ground of joy which nothing can make barren. 
You are persuaded that no effort you make in His 
name will fall idly to the ground. To be unselfish, to 
be brave, to be pure, to be just, to be truthful, to be 
always ready to stand up for what is right, to aim 
always at high things and not at low things, to be^ 
gentle, to be forgiving, to help others to be good, to 
have a genuine reverence for all who are weak, or 
poor, or ignorant, because they are Christ’s little ones, 
—to do all this and to be all this for Christ’s sake, 
this is to have a joy as well as an energy over which 
this world has but little power. And one portion of 
this joy is, “ its own security” It is a pledge to us 
that He who lived and was dead is alive forevermore. 
We may hear more and more of good men and good 
women who do not share in the Christian’s hope, and 
to whom, if we believe their words rather than their 
hearts, the very life beyond the grave is but a dim 
peradventure. But such facts cannot shake the tru'st 
of believers in Him, for whom, in the noble language 
of St. Paul, they “ die daily.” Men must believe One 
for whom they daily die ; they cannot, indeed, prove 
their belief to others ; such proof is impossible, but 
for themselves they have light enough to live by, and 
light enough to die by. No voice from heaven could 
make them more certain of that joy which assures 
them of His presence and His sympathy. Therefore, 


239 


they are proof against doubt; they are as proof against 
it, as was the simple-hearted Christian nurse in a very 
touching ballad (“ In the Children’s Hospital ”), who 
has heard the muttered scorn of the skeptical operator; 
—“ All very well—but the good Lord Jesus has had 
its day.” “ Had ? Has it come ? It has only dawned. 
It will come by-and-by.” And then she exclaims: 
“ Oh, how could I serve in the wards if the hope of 
the world were a lie ? How could I bear with the 
sights and the loathsome smells of disease, But that 
He said, * Ye do it to Me, when ye do it to these? ’ ” 

Again, I say such language of the heart may be no 
proof to others ; but to those who have the Christian’s 
hope, who do the Christian’s work, and share the 
Christian’s joy, such a voice is a very voice from 
heaven ; it is an unconscious offering of love to the 
treasury of Divine truth. It is not, indeed, the 
massive contribution of some great master of theology 
as Paul, Augustine, or Edwards ; but to some minds, 
in some sense, this simple offering of joyful love may 
bring a more authentic witness to things above than 
the analogies of the more sagacious observer, and the 
demonstrations of the most lucid genius. And 
further, it may be that in the sight of Him who made 
both the intellect and the heart, this simple offering 
of trustful joy has a preciousness of its own. 

“Verily, I say unto you, that this poor woman hath 
cast more in than all they which have cast into the 
treasury.” 

Dec. 16, 1882. 











































































































t 
















































* 









XIV. 

PASTORAL CHARGE. 



21 


XIV. 


My Brother: 

The service which, by this council, I am com¬ 
missioned to perform in these ordination exercises, is 
one of peculiar significance and interest, as I appre¬ 
hend it. That significance is found in that official 
act by which, in the name of the sisterhood of 
churches constituting our peculiar fellowship, a pas¬ 
toral charge ,—which includes a local church with all 
its relationships, dependencies, and duties, is com¬ 
mitted to the newly-elected incumbent of the holy 
office. 

I do, then, in the name and by the authority of 
this ecclesiastical council, and of the churches here 
represented, and of the whole brotherhood of Chris¬ 
tian believers ; and in the name of the Great Head of 
the church, commit to you this pastoral charge —this 
church of our Lord Jesus Christ, with its ordinances, 
—first committed to it by its Living Head,—to be 
sacredly guarded in His name,—the frequent, proper, 
and orderly administration of which is ordained for 
the comfort and edification of all true believers; 
this church, with its ministry, and its duties and 
responsibilities^ as it is set in this community—the 
pillar and ground of truth—for the maintenance of the 
faith of Christ, and as made up of those who shall be 
recognized as “living epistles, known and read of all 
men.” 


243 


With this investiture of a most sacred trust, there 
are involved some specific duties, which, for a few 
moments, may profitably occupy our meditation. 

1. Secularities. Under the head of what may be 
termed the secularities of your profession, there may 
be found a score of topics that are often treated in the 
line 6f instruction and admonishment, but which are 
of secondary importance, and only indirectly related 
to the work involved in the great charge committed to 
a Christian minister. 

I shall then pass by all those points which relate to 
the care of your health,—matters of dress,—the 
choice of recreations, and a multitude of similar 
themes, which I judge may, both in this instance, 
and always, be left to enlightened Christian common 
sense. If a man needs instruction on such points 
when he presents himself as a candidate for the pas¬ 
toral office, it may well be seriously questioned 
whether a council is justified in inducting him into 
the sacred office. 

2. Culture of Inner Life. Passing now to matters 
which have a vital relation to the life-work to which 
you have to-day given yourself, I must speak, first of 
all , of the necessity for the culture of the inner life 
according to the spirit of Jesus Christ our Lord. 
This is the most important, and may almost be said 
to be the only true preparation for your other labors. 
Whatever else a preacher and a pastor may have to 
sacrifice which would be pleasing to his tastes, or 
seemingly advantageous to his charge, he must not 
fail to soften, to purify, to sanctify his own temper,— 


244 


his soul in all its feelings, purposes, exercises, by 
devout and intimate communion with God. It were 
well for him every day, to indite for himself a short 
sermon on this text,—“ They made me the keeper of 
the vineyards ; but mine own vineyard have I not 
kept,”—lest he should also make bitter experiment of 
the folly of such neglect. But beyond this l brief 
allusion to what is so strictly personal, as between the 
individual heart and its Maker, it seems hardly be¬ 
coming now to go. 

3. Pastoral Work . I shall not long detain you in 
the consideration of another and very interesting 
department of your work—its directly pastoral rela¬ 
tions. 

I shall draw a sharp line of distinction here 
between what is usually termed pastoral visitation 
and the care of souls , which latter term comprehends, 
not only the essence , but all that is vital and of import¬ 
ance, either in principle or in detail, of the pastoral 
relation. The minister of Jesus Christ has a two-fold 
office— as a preacher of the Word he is to proclaim 
the Gospel message to all who will listen to it ; as a 
pastor or shepherd , he has the care of immortal souls. 

Now a man may, with herculean efforts, perform an 
amount of what, in this age, is misnamed pastoral 
visitation, without accomplishing the smallest result 
in the proper culture and care of the souls that have 
been committed to his charge. I have no hesitation 
in saying that with the exception of a kind and tender 
watchfulness over the poor in our parishes, and the 
needful and appropriate visiting of the aged, the infirm, 


245 


and the sick,—all of which I believe is as faithfully 
and as well performed now as in any former period, I 
say, with these exceptions, pastoral visitation , as the 
theory has come down to us from a former age, is a 
thing unknown and not comprehended by the present 
generation of either pastors or people. There has 
grown up a false and harmful practice, in these latter 
days, which bears no more resemblance to the earlier 
and the true, than the lifeless husk bears to the 
golden grain which once filled it. In this matter, the 
strain to which the younger men in our ministry are 
being subjected is simply unbearable. If the demand 
was for that pastoral work—the care of souls—which 
should give to all their intercourse with the flock over 
which the Holy Ghost makes them the overseers, 
that religious quality which should make it a most 
potent auxiliary to the more public work of preaching 
the Word, we might have faith that in attempting to 
meet it,'they were only giving breadth and largeness 
to their entire work ; but when, as is almost universally 
the case, the demand, under whatever name it may be 
presented, is simply and only for that degenerated 
and demoralizing offspring of a most godly parentage, 
the ever-repeating rounds of never-finished, pro¬ 
miscuous, social visitation, the only true thing for a 
true-hearted minister to do is firmly to resist both the 
temptation that comes from without and that which 
comes from within himself. Now (my brother), that 
is a hard thing for a man whose every pulse beats in 
sympathy and love with social life to say, but it is true , 
and not only true, but a truth the utterance of which 
21 * 


246 


is imperatively demanded in view of the perils which 
threaten our young ministers. The attempt to yield 
to this demand is killing our young men ; one class 
yielding their lives to the sacrifice, and the other, 
living only to see the gradual elimination of every 
element of power from their pulpit performances. 
Nevertheless, if this work of visitation can be so per¬ 
formed that it shall become a study of men and things, 
from which we are to learn a great many things 
which are not in the books ; in which we are to verify 
what is upon our library shelves, or prove it false ; 
through which our intellectual and spiritual discipline 
is to receive its maturest finish, and we more 
thoroughly enabled to instruct and make godlike the 
sons of men, then may we welcome the demand, even 
though it impose upon us burdens a hundred-fqld 
greater than else we should be called to bear. 

4. The Care of Souls. This leads me to speak 
further of that care of souls in which centers all that 
is vital of pastoral work'! 

In the first place, my brother, let me advise you, 
quietly and without any show or spirit of ostenta¬ 
tion or wilfulness, to insist upon, and persist in doing 
your own work in your own way. Otherwise, you 
will not do it at all. If you cannot be yourself, you 
cannot be anything ; anything worthy the name. 

The care of souls ! What is it ? It is that duty 
into which all others finally resolve themselves. 
Christianity addresses its Gospel, sends its teachers, 
not to peoples, or nations, or societies as such, but 
to the individuals of which they are composed. If it 


247 


act on masses it is with reference to individuals. It 
is this feature of our faith that renders the care of 
souls the first duty, as it is the highest form of pas¬ 
toral work. Time would fail me to set forth all the 
requisites for the discharge of this duty, or to enter 
with any minuteness into the details of instruction, 
discipline, and consolation—those three chief necessi¬ 
ties of a redeemed soul. 

I shall only venture now to speak, and that with 
great caution, upon one point, viz. : the necessity 
that the minister of Christ should be qualified for 
dealing effectively with the private religious expe¬ 
riences of individual souls; in other words, with cases 
of experimental religion. By experimental religion, 
I mean religions running through all the several states 
of agitated emotion, which divide the soul just 
awakened to sin, from the soul reposing on a hope 
of forgiveness, and realizing the peace and assurance 
of holy living. Now it is with this side of religion, 
and the delicate searching questions growing out of 
it, that the majority of our clergy are least qualified, 
and therefore most reluctant to deal. The fact 
that they are so, very seriously impairs their efficiency 
as pastors, and their moral power as Christian men. 
The manifold errors that from age to age have 
assailed the church, not only have their ceaseless 
alternations and evolutions, but also their counterparts 
in the interior life of souls. How often are we baffled 
and confounded when attempting to drive out the 
practical issues of such errors ! And even if we take 
the simpler sorts of religious experience, with which 


248 


the intricacies of doctrinal error have not mingled, is 
it a strange thing to find ourselves, now and then, 
abashed and driven into silence, by the presence of 
souls whose anxieties of hope and fear, whose notions 
of self-sacrifice and pious devotion, whose deep and 
ardent yearnings after a more thorough appropria¬ 
tion of Christ, prompt inquiries which the level of 
our own spiritual attainments is too low to enable us 
to answer? Do we study, as we should, the more 
secret chapters of religious experience? Do we wield 
the power we might, nay, do we wield a 7 iy worth 
naming in this direction ? 

We may preach, catechise, minister the sacra¬ 
ments, visit the flock often, and be watchful to gather 
in the wanderers. We may faithfully use all the out¬ 
side means of Christian nurture ; and yet, if we lack 
the skill, or the disposition, or the moral courage to 
enter the very chambers of the soul, and there wrestle 
with its adversaries—then is our ministry an imper¬ 
fect thing. It halts in the region of its grandest 
power. It is silent at a tribunal where it should 
plead and rebuke as with the authority of God. It is 
paralyzed in the very function which would bring it 
nearest to the souls it was ordained to guide. If in 
this work we need the light of illustrious precedent, 
or the power of eloquent example, we shall find it in 
names that shine brighter than the stars in the firma¬ 
ment, and in monitory voices that come ringing 
adown the ages—the pious Herbert, the saintly 
Farrar, the consecrated Payson, with a long catalogue 
of names of men who emulated their spirit and their 


249 


works, and who adorned the church with their lives, 
and consecrated it with their deaths. 

5. Breaching the Word. My brother: I am 
brought to the final topic in this meditation, as I 
dwell for a moment upon that part of your work 
which stands paramount to any and all others. For, 
I pray you, never lose sight of the fact that you are 
now under commission to preach the word , as you are 
commissioned for no other work. The dignity and 
importance of preaching cannot be overstated. The 
spoken truth is ever more living and potential than 
the written truth. Preaching is a mystery—“ a mys¬ 
tery, as to its action and its effects, a mystery of 
reprobation and salvation.” It must, then, be an 
object of greatest moment to bring into fullest exer¬ 
cise such a function as this—to clothe it with every 
rightful power and to guard it against every known 
weakness. We shall not gain any essential advant¬ 
age by an attempt to institute a comparison between 
the preaching of the present day and of those that 
have preceded it. It may be better than the preach¬ 
ing of Origen, vitiated by allegories, or it may be 
inferior to the preaching of St. Basil and St. Chry¬ 
sostom, whose fervid grandeur, impetuous energy, 
and Scriptural simplicity, redeemed the weakness of 
a preceding age, and made Constantinople and Antioch 
the classic grounds of Christian eloquence. It may 
be better than'the preaching of the Mediaeval Church, 
when, with worship, doctrine, discipline, and priest¬ 
hood, it suffered a common petrifaction. Or it may 
be worse, less bold, less trenchant, less a medium for 


250 


God’s word, than the style of the standard-bearers 
of the Reformation, who were summoned from the 
silence of the altar and the constraints of an intricate 
ritualism to participate in the excitements of free dis¬ 
cussion and pulpit address. Be that as it may ; it is 
agreed, on all sides, that the preaching of to-day does 
not adequately meet the exigencies of the time. 
While, by all fair observers, it is agreed that it is not 
lacking in many of the lighter sources of influence, 
such as sprightliness, culture, versatility, and occa¬ 
sional eloquence, yet, it is also acknowledged that it 
does not speak with the authority, unction, and 
power to be expected from a gift so essentially 
divine—that instead of ruling, it is ruled by the domin¬ 
ant tendencies of secular thought, that it fails to 
echo the virtues and inspirations of the word of God, 
that it is neither great, as an exhibition of Christian 
intellect, nor earnest as an organ of Christian spiritu¬ 
ality, that men smile when it thunders, and sleep 
when it persuades, that it addresses more Felixes 
who yawn, than Felixes who tremble. Where, then, 
is the defect; what is needed to redeem the exer¬ 
cise of this mighty gift from this pious weakness and 
decent mediocrity? How shall it regain its lost 
dominion over the sources of public sentiment ? 
Brother !-— Brethren !—there is but one way back to 
the heights of power; and we must each in our 
places, begin to travel it. We must lo< 5 k anew to our 
commission. With purged sight let us try to see in 
it the very hand-writing of the Church’s Head, and 
the baptism of the Pentecostal fire; let us lay hold 


251 


upon the gift as it is rooted in the grace and sanction 
of the living God; let us use it as a thing fed by the 
Eternal Spirit, and as a constituted part of a super¬ 
natural order; let .us grasp it in its spiritual aspects, 
and on the side lying next to the unseen world. A 
profound spirituality of private experience, an expe¬ 
rience of the death that is in us, and the life that is in 
Christ; it is this that conditions and measures the 
power of preaching. It was this that made Paul, in 
spite of slowness of speech and meanness of stature, 
the mightiest of Christian orators. It was this like¬ 
ness unto the ministry of his Master, this actual bear¬ 
ing about within his soul of the blood and the agony 
of Calvary, and the glory and the triumph of the 
risen Jesus that silenced Athens, Ephesus, and 
Corinth, when presuming to compare him with some 
inferior name. Where, now, O ancient of books, is 
the fire once poured along thy pages from the top of 
Sinai—where, the blood-stained halo of Calvary ? 

My brother, as you start out to-day in a new and 
untried field of labor, I charge you in the name of 
God and of his Witnessing Spirit, that you preach 
the crucified Jesus, that you preach the blood-stained 
cross, and the love-bedewed garden of suffering, but 
that you preach these truths in redemption’s plan 
with power , with that power which holds the hearts 
and consciences of men and brings them salvation. 
And may God give you grace, brother, “To hold the 
mystery of the faith in a pure conscience, and by 
the manifestation of the truth, to commend yourself 
irresistibly unto the consciences of men .—Amen /” 

March 4, 1875. 




SERMON XV. 

“LIBERTY AND ACCOUNTABILITY.” . 

Text, Romans 14, 12. 

“ So then every one of us shall give account of himself to 
God.” 

Scripture lesson, Romans 14, 1-12. 



22 


•t* 




XV. 


The text affirms the great and solemn fact of a 
future accountability. But the truth that underlies 
the statement is, the other great fact of every man’s 
liberty of conscience. The doctrine of the New 
Testament is, that every man who has liberty has a 
proportionate accountability ; that whenever there is 
accountability, it is because there is liberty. It must 
be so. The two things are coordinate. They are 
the complement one of the other. 

Every man ought to make up his own mind upon 
his religious privileges and duties. He must do it in 
the use of reason and of conscience. We are not to 
inherit our opinions. Our beliefs are not to be tradi¬ 
tional. We are not to believe merely because we 
have been so taught. As soon as we come to years 
of discretion, we are bound, as a part of our religious 
duty, to investigate again, as far as in us lies, and 
search to the foundation of things, and have a ground 
and reason for our faith. Not only have we a right 
to do it, but the duty is upon us. 

No man has a right to condemn you ; no man has a 
right to harm you ; no man has a right to criticise you 
in such a manner as to injure your name, your peace, 
or your influence, because in the exercise of Chris¬ 
tian liberty, of thought, and decision, you vary from 
his thinking, from his conscience, or from his reason. 



255 


Not only have you a right to investigate, but you have 
a right to differ, to differ from the old, to differ from' 
the new, to differ from those who have transmitted 
their faiths, to differ from the living faith of Chris¬ 
tian men. You have a right to agree with the church, 
and you have a right to disagree with the church. 
You have a right to coordinate your life with that 
which belongs to the creeds of your fathers, or you 
have a right to set aside the creeds of your fathers. 
It is your right to do the same by individuals. And 
if you differ with a brother, you and he have a right 
of reasoning. He has a right to examine your con¬ 
clusions, and you have a right to examine his. Think - 
ing is the world's liberty. 

We have a right to search out God if we can. We 
have a right to go wherever the wings of imagination 
can carry us. We are limited only by our weakness. 
And, certainly, since Jehovah, himself, does not hold 
himself sacred from research, we are not forbidden to 
examine a fellow-man’s doctrines, and explore the 
foundations of his religious life. You have a right to 
think as you please, so far as I am concerned ; and 
yet I have a right to inquire into your faith, and the 
reasons of it. Nay, where one is teacher, and em¬ 
ploys his views to affect others, he is in duty bound to 
investigate doctrines and beliefs, whether private or 
public. We are under obligation to use our liberty of 
investigation upon each other’s faith. We are not, 
however, to control, by authority, other men’s judg¬ 
ment. 

Now, let me read the context, and see if I have 


256 


rightly interpreted this passage—vide Rom. 14, 1-12. 
And, if this last declaration is true, it is only fair that 
he should have the liberty of believing and living in 
such a way that he can meet his destiny. Since you 
cannot divide with him accountability before the judg¬ 
ment bar, since you cannot share with him the results 
of his course in life, since he must at last stand or 
fall by himself, by his own character, by his own 
conduct, he has a right to liberty as the very first and 
highest condition of success. That is the Apostle’s 
reasoning. 

Let us look a little at the details and extent of this 
matter. 

Now this does not forbid teaching by parents, by 
teachers, or by the church. I am not speaking as I 
am this evening for the sake of throwing upon your 
minds doubts or hesitations. It is not my purpose to 
discourage reasoning or exposition. These things 
are proper, but they must not come in the form of 
dogmatic authority. The parent may enlighten you, 
the teacher may instruct you, the leader may guide 
you, and the church may surround you with all helps ; 
but neither parent, nor teacher, nor leader, nor church 
has any right to coerce you or to condemn you, if, in 
the legitimate exercise of your judgment and con¬ 
science, you differ from what may be supposed to be 
the true doctrines. There must be no despotism over 
men’s beliefs. And the reason for this is, that every 
one has such an interest in his own immortality; in 
his living forever and forever in the dignity and glory 
of the upper world, or in the shame and bondage of 


257 


the lower ; that no man with self-respect, and no man 
with penetration, can for a moment afford to put his 
salvation into any other man’s hands, unless that man 
can guarantee that he will take his burden from him 
in the judgment day ; and that is impossible, for every 
man shall stand or fall to his own master. “ So then 
every one of us shall give account of himself to God.” 
There is but one Master, God; and you must, in the 
use of conscience and reason, find out what he 
requires; and having learned that, you must heed it, 
whether you go with the world or against it. If a 
man does wrong, we may rebuke him, and testify 
against him. We are, however, to testify, not against 
his liberty of forming opinions of his own, but against 
a criminal use of that great prerogative. 

If you are a skilled farmer, and you till your acres 
successfully, and fill your granaries with the fruit of 
your labors ; and if another man, claiming the right to 
carry on his farm as he pleases, refuses to plant in the 
Spring, and waits until September, and when he does 
plant, insists upon putting in weeds instead of valua¬ 
ble grain, and at last becomes a beggar through his 
bad management, you have a right to ridicule him 
and to denounce him as a fool. And why? Not 
because he tised his own liberty, but because he used 
it in the way he did. You have a right to differ from 
any man around you ; but you have no right so to use 
your liberty as to set aside the counsel of experience. 
You must use your reason sensibly, and your con¬ 
science intelligently; and because God has given you 
liberty of choice, on that very account you are respon- 
22 * 


258 


1 

sible for the right use of it. Take care how you 
employ so great a privilege as that. 

But is there no test, no measure, in which men, in 
their infinite variations, may be known? Yes, our 
Master has given us a test. By their fruits ye shall 
know them. Where a man is good, it is the life that 
is good, it is the character that is good. Right believ¬ 
ing has much to do with right living. And yet many 
men who do not believe rightly, live aright. That is, 
the life may be better than the faith. It is the life, 
character, and disposition that are the tests. 

“But,” it is asked, “do you say there is no such 
thing as unity, or order, or discipline, or harmony ? 
What are we to do with the prayer of the Saviour that 
all may be united, and ‘be one with each other as he is 
one with the Father ? ’ Where is all that oneness for 
which men have sighed? Where is all that unity 
after which the church has been striving ? ” I reply 
that the idea of Christ was not that men should come 
to an absolute likeness and unity in thought, in intel¬ 
lectual processes. God did not make men to be alike. 
To expect them to be so would be as great a folly as 
for a botanist to expect all things in the vegetable 
kingdom to be of one given type. It is argued by the 
Apostle himself that the result of the working of the 
Spirit is difference, as well as unity, unity of great 
principles, and difference in the effects which flow 
from these great principles. 

You cannot get men into one measure. One man, 
who has more conscience than benevolence, will read 
the system of divine truth in the light of conscience. 


259 


Another man, who is full of benevolence, and who has 
but little conscience, will &ee the system of truth 
glowing and radiating in that. The man who has 
neither of these feelings strongly, but in whom there 
is much of the aesthetic tendency, will see the corusca¬ 
tion of the system of truth in “the beauty of holiness.” 
The man who has not this tendency, but in whom 
caution and veneration are intense, will see the system 
of truth in the shaded church, in prostration, and in 
solemn ceremonies. The minds (or rather tempera¬ 
ments) of men give color to the faith of the men 
themselves. And yet, they are all of them moving in 
the great sphere of truth. Therefore, in the religious 
world, although men take different centers and points 
of comparison, and are relatively different one from 
another, it does not follow that there is no ground of 
substantial truth between them. The system of God’s 
truth is so large that the human mind cannot compass 
it. We are obliged to look at it in portions. It is 
true, as the Apostle said, that now we know but in 
part. We see through a glass darkly. But when we 
come to that world in which love predominates, then 
we shall be men, and shall put away the childish 
systems which belong to this mortal sphere. 

The union which Christ meant is moral, not intel¬ 
lectual, except as incidental to the moral. It is affec- 
tional. It lies in the temper, in the disposition, in 
the heart, and not ‘in creeds. It does not reject 
creeds ; it does not disdain them ; it seeks as far as 
may be, to bring men together in ideas ; but it is 
essentially a union of the disposition and heart. And 


26 o 


liberty favors it. We are not to put faith so much in 
what a mail believes , as in the state of his heart, and 
the disposition which he possesses. Unity is not 
produced by building high walls between one denom¬ 
ination and another ; it is produced by bringing men 
together in the bonds of love. It is the love element 
that is to produce unity, not of thinking, but of dis¬ 
position. 

But there is another side to this subject, which I 
have not yet presented. I proceed to say, in view of 
this liberty of conscience and judgment, that every 
man is bound to use it , first in the finding out of truth , 
so far as his own character and conduct are concerned. 
Every man, because he is free, has the responsibility 
laid upon him by the hand of God of using his free¬ 
dom in discovering the truth of duty, the obligations 
of conduct, the conditions of character. It is not 
enough to reject the authority of the church ; it is not 
enough to reject the authority of the minister ; it is 
not enough to rail at the past; it is not enough to 
separate yourself from sects. You are to exercise 
this prerogative of liberty, .not for the sake of forming 
systematic views, but for the sake of so shaping your 
life as to prepare yourselves for your eternal destiny. 
I lay that responsibility upon your liberty. Use, then, 
your liberty of judgment and conscience, but in God’s 
name I enjoin you to use it for your salvation. 

Next, no man can excuse himself who permits the 
perils of the eternal world to go unexplored. Still 
less can any man excuse himself who catches the 
loose ideas and feelings of the circle in which he 


2 6 


moves, and allows his eternal destiny to be fixed, 
while he scarcely once earnestly, prayerfully, looks 
into the matter for himself. And yet, you know very 
well that many men never go for their opinions beyond 
the newspaper that they read, beyond the neighbor¬ 
hood in which they dwell, beyond the church to which 
they belong. A man says, “ My opinion has always 
been so and so/’ and that is about the whole that he 
thinks of it. How few there are who attend to the 
question of their own soul’s salvation with that 
degree of interest which the importance of the sub¬ 
ject demands ! How many there are who take their 
religious faith from their companions, and those 
around about them ! 

It is every man’s business to know the truth as it 
is in Jesus. We may be able to help you find it out, 
but we cannot force it upon you. I have the right to 
give the most earnest exjfression to my beliefs, but 
you may reject or accept them. You are bound, how¬ 
ever, if you reject them, to reject them upon good 
grounds, for sufficient reasons, and not causelessly. 
And, if you accept my beliefs, you are bound to 
accept them because they appeal to your conscience, 
cleanse the heart, invigorate the spiritual life, and 
bring the soul into commerce with God, preparing it 
for its eternal destiny. 

No man, I remark thirdly , has any right to wait 
for preaching, for conversion, or for revivals. Every 
man is bound to take care of his own case, without 
waiting for anything. The duty is upon you. No 
person is half so much concerned in your character 


262 


as you are. No person, though it be your father or 
mother, is half so much concerned in your destiny as 
you are. It is your business, above all other men’s, 
what becomes of you; for, while other men shall bear 
their soul-burden, you must look out for yours. If 
there is help, you have a right to take it, but no one 
is bound to go after you. Such has been the earnest¬ 
ness of the church, and such the eagerness of exhorta¬ 
tion in the pulpit, that many persons seem to think 
that they are to wait to be called for, and have almost 
lost their sense of agency and responsibility. But 
there is no man in this house, who has come to years 
of discretion, who is not able to form his own judg¬ 
ment. In heathen lands, where the senses are 
darkened, there is some reason why men should be 
treated like children. But you have a mind in which 
moral ideas are implanted ; from the cradle you have, 
been taught the truths of* religion ; you have walked, 
as it were, upon the leaves of God’s Bible; you have 
been fostered and cultured in the truths of Chris¬ 
tianity, all the elements of which have again and again 
been presented before you in varying phases; and it 
is not for you to wait for synods or councils, or any 
body of men, or any individual man. Every one has 
a right to decide in his own mind questions which 
relate to his spiritual welfare. Every man has reasons 
enough in himself, in his disposition, in the yearnings 
of his spiritual nature, in the perils that threaten him 
on one side, and the joys that beckon him on the 
other, to enable him to form his own judgment. And 
every man should look after his own salvation, and 
not wait for some one to run after him. 


2^3 

I will impose my faith on no man, neither will I 
undertake to do any man’s work for him. I roll the 
responsibility of your salvation over upon you, and I 
say, “ Look you to it.” I am not insensible to the 
condition of my fellows. My sympathy is with every 
man who carries immortality in him; but every man 
has more to do with himself than any one else has. 
I have a care and solicitude for every man who is 
making the hazardous experiment of life ; I earnestly 
desire that every man should go right; I am exceed¬ 
ingly anxious to help every man who will accept help ; 
but I do not do it with my eyes shut to the fact that 
each must form his own judgment and decisions. 
You must shape your own character. You are born 
to live in this world so as to live in the other, and I 
come to tell you that your voluntary choices are 
establishing your character for time and eternity. 
Under the moral law, negatives are as efficient as 
positives. The man who refuses truth chooses false¬ 
hood. The man who refuses virtue chooses vice. 
Your years are few and are passing. You are settling 
your destiny for eternity. You are liable at any 
moment to have the whole process brought to a 
sudden end. I look over human life, and I strike a 
line through the middle of the years that are appointed 
for men, and then I look to see where the bulk of the 
race is, and I find it is black with men underneath the 
middle line, and that above it, men are like spires in 
a village, few and scattering. Of the men that are 
born into this world, not one in twenty goes above 
the middle line. More than half die before maturity, 


264 


and thirty] years is the average to which we attain. 
Walk in the cemetery, and notice the tombstones 
there. The old are the exception. Really death 
marches with young soldiers . I have often said this 
before, and many who have heard me, have gone to 
prove the truth of it. Some of you are going. Some 
of you are not far from the great day of account. 
You are drawing near to your home. Many that 
belong to you are tending thither. Every day and 
every hour gone, is so much of life gone; and we shall 
leave this world but once; and then will come the 
fixity of the eternal world. 

I stand here, not so much to tell anything new, as 
to bring home to your remembrance and to your 
feelings, if I can, this truth of your moral liberty to 
think, to decide, to choose ; and to remind you that 
you must stand before the judgment-seat of Christ, 
and give account for what you are and what you have 
done. See ye to it. 

Do you say, “ Then I will go and talk with you ? ” 
Do you say, “ I want to know what to do to be saved ?” 
You do know, and you have been instructed in it a 
thousand times. There is not an adult here who is 
ignorant on that subject. When you come to me, 
come to say, “The Lord has blessed my soul?” 
Come to rejoice over your acceptance as God’s chil¬ 
dren. 

It is the sun that says to the farmer, “ Plant your 
seed, and I will bring it up.” It is the sun that says 
to the farmer, “ Transplant, and I will give root, and 
nourishment, and warmth, and life.” And God says 


265 


to men, “ I will strive, strive ye. I will work, work 
ye .” Clasp hands with God in a pledge of never- 
ending fidelity, and of never-ending, joyous service. 

So then, when at last my mission is ended ; when 
life is over—and it may be nearer over than you or I 
think—and we stand face to face again, with God 
between us, and the judgment decisions awaiting us, 
turn not to me, saying, “ What shall I do ? ” I can 
tell you nothing then. Then you must stand, or fall, 
alone. Remember , the soul that must give answer for 
itself then, is in your sole keeping now. It is your 
own care. I cannot take the charge. I would not 
take the peril and risk of one soul if the solid globe 
were gold, and God would give it me. I can take 
care of but one soul, and that is my own. Only God 
can take care of more than one. You must see to 
yours. Look not, then, in that great day to me, but 
remember the words I speak unto you, “ Every man 
shall bear his own burden.” Take care ! 

Nov. 13, 1880. 


23 












SERMON XVI. 

“REPENTANCE DEMANDED.” 

Text, Acts, 17, 30. 

“ God . . . now commandeth all men everywhere to repent.” 


XVI. 


A command as broad as this must be founded on 
reasons equally broad. It is universal, fundamental, 
and conclusive ; and the grounds on which it stands 
must be universal, fundamental, and conclusive. 

The grounds or reasons of religion, as propounded 
by the Christian scheme, are applicable to all men, in 
all ages, in every nation, and under all circumstances, 
without regard to sect, and without regard to any 
especial philosophy. When, therefore, the Scriptures 
command a man to repent, it commands him to repent 
in the inward sense of the reconstruction of his 
purposes, his thoughts, his feelings, his life. What¬ 
ever goes to make the inward man is to be changed 
by the inspiration of the Divine Spirit,—lifted higher, 
and brought into a nobler fellowship. And of course, 
when a man is changed within, the outward change 
follows naturally. Faults drop off from men just so 
soon as they are lifted out of the sphere which tends 
to breed those faults. It is hard for a man who begins 
outside to reform inside. It is comparatively easy 
for a man who begins inwardly to reform outwardly. 
When the Word of God commands all men to repent, 
it pursues the most eminently philosophical plan of 
insisting that men are to be converted, to be born 
again, and that they are to repent in the inward man, 
and to turn from things wrong that they may be exter¬ 
nally right. 



269 


When we come to an understanding and acceptance 
of a truly Christian life, we cannot be turned aside by 
any that say : “ These duties are incumbent upon 
Christians only. It is right that men who accept the 
Christian faith, and who belong to the Christian com¬ 
munion, should possess Christian graces and practice 
Christian virtues. They ought to forgive their 
enemies; they ought to be gentle and humble ; they 
ought to be spiritually minded. They ought to have 
faith in things high and pure and good. They ought 
to be consistent with their professions. It is fre¬ 
quently the case that men say, “ I admit the excel¬ 
lence of these things, and I think that if I had united 
with a church I would be bound to be what you urge 
me to be ; but, sir, though I respect religion, and the 
offices of religion, you should remember that I am not 
a professor of religion. These appeals and urgent 
motives which you bring to bear upon me, do not 
exactly apply to me. They slide by me to my neigh¬ 
bor. He ought to be what you say I ought to be, 
because he is a professor of religion. You ought not 
to address me in this way, because I do not profess 
religion.” As if the mere voluntary adoption of an 
institution for the cultivation of religious life; as if 
the mere cohesion of men for this common purpose, 
was the source and origin of obligation! I say that 
the obligation to do right according to the pattern of 
Christianity goes back of churches, goes back of creeds, 
goes back to those elements which every man must 
recognize in himself. And I address you to-day, not 
as members even of civilized society, not as members 
23* 


270 


of a Christian community, not as members of a church 
that believe in this dogma or that creed, but simply 
as men. 

And I say, first, if it be true—and I think you will 
admit it to be true—that there is a personal God by 
whom you were created, by whose bounty you have 
been sustained, under whose government you live, 
from whose hand you receive daily that which makes 
life a blessing; if such has been your relation to God 
through years, and scores of years, and God is your 
Creator, and Sustainer, and bountiful Benefactor, I 
propound to you the simple truth that you are under 
obligations to obey Him, not because you are a Presby¬ 
terian, a Methodist, a Baptist, an Episcopalian, or a 
Congregationalist; not because you are an American 
or a European, not because you are civilized or unciv¬ 
ilized, but simply because you are men. It is the 
most generic ground possible. Simply because you 
are born into the world under the government of a 
Paternal God, and are a willing recipient of the boun¬ 
ties that are heaped upon you from His hand; simply 
because He is your Protector and Father, He has a 
right to your allegiance. I think there can be no gain¬ 
saying it—no contradiction of it. 

Perhaps you will say, “ I do not believe the Word of 
God to be a revelation in the sense in which you do ; 
and if there be such a God, and He Jpas such claims 
upon me, I hold that it is only fair that there should 
be some authoritative teaching of what is His will. 
Where, then, will you go ? What would satisfy you 
as to the disclosures of the divine will ? Is there any 


2 ; 


teaching that would reach your case ? Do you believe 
that men know how to live now better than they did 
four thousand years ago ? Has the human family 
through all its gropings, through all its inquisitive¬ 
ness, through all its endeavors, through all its experi¬ 
ments, through all its failures or successes, accumu¬ 
lated any considerable number of principles of life, 
which men acknowledge to be a revelation of their 
duty under God’s government and administration ? 
Has the human race made any progress in discover¬ 
ing what is its true mission in this world ? We 
certainly know the laws of health better than^ve did. 
We certainly know the laws of God in the structure of 
the human body better than we ever did before. We 
have learned the law of individual happiness better 
than it has been previously known. Every single 
generation is adding something to the knowledge of 
men respecting health, virtue, morality, social thrift, 
and national life. The world has not only advanced, 
but has made great strides in these directions. 

Now there is not one great element on which wise 
men of all periods and all nationalities agree, which 
is not made obligatory by the Bible. Take all the 
points about which they have agreed in reference to 
human life and true happiness, individually, or in the 
family, or in society, and I aver that there is not one 
single one of those points to which these men have 
agreed, as the result, not of revelation, but of explora¬ 
tion and experience, from age to age, the germ of 
which you shall not find commanded in the Christian 
scheme. In other words those things which have 


272 


been revealed in the Lord Jesus Christ, came into the 
world before men found them out by groping after a 
knowledge of natural laws. The great truths which 
stand connected with man’s spiritual nature, his 
social nature, yea, and his physical nature, were pro¬ 
pounded ages ago ; and philosophy, rejecting them 
and finding out the great economy of human .life by 
observing man exteriorlv—by looking at the sum of 
his failures as well as the sum of his successes, has 
come to the same results from another quarter. And 
I say that the things which are propounded for human 
life commend themselves to men, not on the ground 
that th^r are members of a sect, nor on the ground 
that they are professors of the Christian religion, but 
on the ground that every one of the great precepts 
of the New Testament conforms to the nature of 
things, and is based on natural law. I do not believe 
there is one of the great truths of Christianity that, 
if you trace it down to its foundation, you will not 
find to be firmly grounded on natural law. And 
Christianity is the interpretation of nature. But I 
hold it to be a revelation of nature in its highest 
forms. And whatever may be the skepticism arising 
from natural science,.I believe that natural science 
itself, when it shall have rounded out its work, and 
perfected its knowledge, will come back to the essen¬ 
tial truths of the New Testament, and be in perfect 
harmony with them. If I believed that natural 
science and the New Testament were at odds, I could 
not stand here and preach as a man of truth and 
honor. For what God has taught in the organiza- 


273 


tion of nature you cannot dodge nor disbelieve ; and 
what God has taught by holy tnen moved by the 
Spirit of God you cannot set aside ; and if they were 
in conflict, I know not how any man could endure 
these two revelations, both of them purporting to 
come from God. One or the other would have to be 
given up. But notwithstanding this seeming conflict 
between the New Testament and nature, the truth of 
God in nature has always come, in the end, to 
supremacy, and compelled the theologian to change, 
not the truth of revelation, but his scheme of philoso¬ 
phy ; and he finds that he has been standing on a 
wrong ground, and has misinterpreted Christianity. 
I suppose it will be so to the end. And my faith is 
firm, not only that science is in perfect consonance 
with religion, but that when the utmost discoveries 
of modern science have been made and perfected and 
classified, it will come to be the most complete 
exponent of those essential truths, those great spirit¬ 
ual elements, which constitute Christianity, and that 
science will plant itself on the ground of Christianity. 

Now, I appeal to every man to stand on Christian 
ground, and in a Christian experience, because it is 
in consonance with the essential laws of his being. 
We are told to deny ourselves ; and men have sup¬ 
posed that we were to controvert our nature. It is 
not so. You are to deny yourselves of faults , but 
not of the powers with which you are naturally 
endowed. You are not to deny yourself in any way 
that shall move you out of the sphere in which you 
were meant to shine brighter than the stars of the 


274 


firmament. You have a nature that is badly arranged, 
badly indoctrinated, and badly disciplined ; you have 
a nature that needs to be reconstructed—recreated. 
You are to appeal from yourself as you are, to your¬ 
self better informed ; from your lower nature, where 
your whole life has been centered, to your higher 
nature, which has been empty and void hitherto. 
And I advocate religion for you, not on the ground 
of any narrow church claims, nor for any ecclesias¬ 
tical reasons, but because your nature requires it. 
You cannot be a man, such as God made you to be, 
.and yet live with your passions dominating over 
your higher faculties. You cannot be the man God 
meant you to be, and live for only the things that you 
can see. You inherit the passions that belong to the 
brute creation in common with the human race,—but 
by your higher reason, and by your moral nature you 
are lifted infinitely above mere animal life. And it is 
these higher qualities in you that ally you to God and 
spiritual beings. They constitute a part of your 
nature which cannot dwell in health and power with¬ 
out intersphering with God’s nature. By reason of 
that nature in yourself, I say to you, you need the 
Lord Jesus Christ, you need to believe in him, you 
need to repent, to be born again, and to become a 
Christian man—in other words to become a man —a 
man in the highest, truest, divinest sense; for when 
I say a Christian man , it is only another term for 
manhood —a double phrase. 

If you consider happiness as being a complex result 
of obedience to all the laws in you, no man can be 


27 5 

truly happy in this world who does not conform his 
life and character and aims to the principles and pre¬ 
cepts of the Christian faith. Believing, as I heartily 
do, that all the great outlines of education and charac¬ 
ter as revealed in the New Testament are synony¬ 
mous with the revelations and teachings of nature, I 
say to every man,—you are not bound from some 
mysterious reason hidden behind the divine govern¬ 
ment, to be a Christian. God does not bring to you 
a new pattern of manhood, unrevealed and unthought 
of till Christ came. He brings that clearer light to 
you which was made necessary when you yourself 
were created. And I urge you to a Christian life on 
grounds as deep as your own life, as fundamental as 
the nature that is in you. If you have gone wrong; 
if you have lived under the dominion of pride; if 
selfishness has been the animating principle of your 
life, if you have given way to frivolity and all forms 
of vanity; if you have exposed yourself to the devas¬ 
tations of the appetites; if you have given loose rein 
to your lusts; if you have hitherto lived by the sight 
of your eye and the pride of your heart, then I call 
you to repent. And I present before you, as the one 
to whom you owe allegiance, a God, not represented 
as a thunderer, or a being of power standing at the 
head of universal government, but as the man Christ 
Jesus. God clothed with benignity and mercy while 
upholding justice; God loving while commanding; 
God insphered in the human state that he might 
address himself by human sympathies to human sym¬ 
pathies ; God translated to the condition of man, that 


2 y 6 


every man might read in his own language, as it were, 
what was the character and nature of his divine 
Sovereign. I present Him to you to-day, and say, 
will you have this man to rule over you ? Will you 
take the pattern of life in the New Testament, the 
character of Jesus Christ, and resolve in heart and 
soul, that you will fashion your life according thereto, 
excluding what it forbids and including what it com¬ 
mands ? 

A great many of you have been instructed all your 
life long in these things, and you have a kind of 
general faith in the matter of right living. I bring it 
to you to-day, and say, will you not resolve, now and 
here, that you will undertake to find out in the New 
Testament what it requires of a man ? Is not that 
fair ? Is it not reasonable ? It is not a difficult thing. 
It would not take you long to read the whole of the 
New Testament. I do not believe there are as many 
types in one of the Gospels as there are in one of 
our large daily papers ; and we think nothing of read¬ 
ing one of those through in a day. And yet many 
men look upon reading the New Testament through 
as a great work. They have an idea that it is like an 
essence, and is to be taken diluted. A text here and 
there they think is sufficient. But will you not take 
this guide, this rule of life, and make it a matter of 
examination, asking yourself, what does God require 
of me ? What would I be if I took the New Testa¬ 
ment as my rule ? Is this not a reasonable request ? 
Will you not enter into this investigation ? And will 
you not do it with this purpose—I will undertake to 



27 7 


accept the Divine idea of life and conform my con¬ 
duct to it? Well, if you say, “I will,” what then? 
Are you a Christian now ? Yes, you are just such a 
Christian as an emigrant is a citizen who lands in this 
country, and says, “ I have come here to live. I wish 
to see the constitution and the laws. As soon as I 
learn what they require of a citizen, I shall try to do 
it.” Now, when he has searched the constitution and 
ascertained what the laws are, and determined to 
abide by the constitution and those laws, how much 
of a citizen is he ? He is one in purpose and in spirit, 
and so far as these are concerned, he is a citizen of 
the United States; but then his life is yet to unfold. 
His purposes are yet to be reduced to a character. 
When a man studies the New Testament, and says, 
“ What does God require of me ? I know how hard it 
is to be a Christian. God help me. It is my 
sovereign purpose to undertake to live as a Christian ” 
—is that being a Christian ? Yes, it is the Christian 
life in its beginning. If you mean, Am I full of the 
experiences and fruits of a Christian ? My reply is, 
Oh, no,—no more than the empty garner is full of the 
harvest when the seed has but just been cast into the 
fallow ground. I have not reaped the harvest; but I 
have sown the seed, and seed-sowing is a part of hus¬ 
bandry. The kingdom of God is like leaven which a 
woman took and hid in three measures of meal till the 
whole was leavened. It is like a grain of mustard 
seed which a man took and sowed in his field, which 
when it is grown, is the greatest of all herbs. A man 
is to be born again ; and when he is born again, he 
24 


2 yS 

will be a Christian, although he will not be a fully 
developed Christian. 

Your first step is to resolve to break off from the 
old way and determine that you will accept the teach¬ 
ing of Christ Jesus, and begin to live in the new 
way. “Well,” you may say, “ what then ? What will 
come afterwards ? When I have begun, what will fol¬ 
low ? ” Nothing that need discourage you. There 
will be a great deal that will come, but nothing that it 
will not do you good to experience. The moment you 
begin to live rightly, you will see how wrongly you 
have been living. The moment you attempt to live 
as a Christian man in the simplest elements, that mo¬ 
ment you begin to have a measure of how sinful you 
are. One of the first things that a man says after 
entering a Christian life is, “ I do not know how to 
pray.” The first experience of a man in undertaking 
to live a Christian life is the consciousness of how 
utterly devoid he is of a true Christian spirit. 

What next ? What will he experience then ? Well, 
you will make violent endeavors to do that which you 
are unable to accomplish. You will have ideals of 
duty, and will rise in the morning determined to 
realize those ideals, and will say, “ I have covenanted 
with God to live a Christian life, and to-day I am to 
undertake to do it; ” and at night, you will come back 
with spirit depressed,—with your head hanging, and 
will say, “ It seems to me that I never lived so much 
at variance with my conscience as since I have been 
trying to live right. It seems to me I never behaved 
so badly as since I resolved to behave better.” “ What 


279 


is the result,” it is asked, “ of such an experience as 
that ?” In the cases of some it will act as a discourage¬ 
ment, and they will say, after trying awhile to be 
Christians, “ I might as well give it up first as last.” 
Some of a different nature will look around at others 
that are Christians and will say, “ Well, I do not see 
as I need to trouble myself; they do not live any better 
than I do ; if they are saved, I shall be saved.” But 
suppose neither is saved ! ! ! ! A man, by the way of 
satisfying his conscience for not living a Christian life, 
says, “ I can pick out in the church ever so many 
people who are no better than I am.” Very true. 
There is always chaff where there is wheat. But there 
will be others who will say, in earnest, “I have begun 
to be a Christian, I have put my hand to the plow, and 
I will not look back. I thought the way of the Chris¬ 
tian was a plain, easy way ; but so far I have found it 
hard. It will be easy, however, when I have become 
grounded in it, and I am determined that I will live 
according to the pattern of the Lord Jesus Christ, 
or die in the struggle.” “ Is that, then,” you ask, “ the 
life of peace and joy to which you invite me?” Go 
on ; you are on the eve of that to which I invite you, 
if you have come to this struggle and experience ; for 
at last, and just beyond this, there arises upon the 
tempest-tossed and struggling soul that is in earnest, 
—that is deeply penetrated with the meaning of 
spiritual life,—the vision of a Saviour that brings 
peace long before perfectness is brought. Now there 
comes into the man’s soul, at a certain point of his 
experience, the Physician, Christ, who says to him, 


280 


“ Oh, struggling soul, seek not peace by perfection 
which you may not reach in this world; I am your 
Brother, your Friend, your Saviour; now sit down by 
me, and I will become your Physician, and your Nurse. 
I accept you with all your imperfections, your unlove¬ 
liness, your sinfulness. Now, rest in me and I will 
help you and take you through all your sickness. 
You are safe the moment you commit your case to my 
hand, although you are yet sinful and imperfect.” 
And the soul says, “Though I violate every day my 
own purposes, and disobey the divine law, yet I love 
Thee. No waters can quench, no floods can drown 
the love that I feel for Thee. But, Lord, with these 
fantastic imaginations, with these wild bursts of pas¬ 
sion, with these tempests of temper, with these 
promises unfulfilled, with this daily breaking what I 
know I shall break when I promise, can I be loved of 
Thee?” And the Saviour says, “Unto death I will 
love thee; I will not leave thee nor forsake thee; thy 
name is graven upon the palm of my hand; thou art 
dear to me.” And in wonder, the soul says again to 
the Saviour, “Why, since I am sick and poor, since 
everything in me is weak and wrong—why, O Saviour, 
dost Thou love me ? ” And he replies, “ Because I am 
God. I love to heal. I love because divine love is 
the medicine of soul sickness. I love you because 
love is your only hope. I love you because you are 
weak, and unable to do that which you require of your¬ 
self, and that which the law requires of you. Are you 
willing to trust yourself in my care ? Are you willing 
to give yourself up to my love and my help ? Will 



28 i 


you rest and take comfort in them ?” When that dis¬ 
closure comes to the soul, then comes joy unspeaka¬ 
ble and full of glory! I am not speaking words of 
poetry, but words of experience. 

It is the nature of God to love the sinner—not the 
sinner after he has repented, but while he is yet in his 
sins,—in order to help him. It is His nature to take 
the sinner, all dripping with flagrant pride, and 
temper, and weakness, and ignorance, and blindness, 
in his arms, as a nurse takes a sick child, that He may 
cure him, and bear with his imperfections, as the 
parent bears with the fractiousness of the child. A 
God that loves ; a God that forgives; a God that heals 
—such a God, how can you but love ? And this will 
be the termination of your experience, as honest men 
and women. The first revelation will be of your 
exceeding sinfulness. The second revelation will be 
that it is not in your unaided power to get free from 
your sin. The third revelation will be that there is a 
power by which, if a man strive to be free, he may 
come to joy. And you will need no further teaching 
from me when you come to that point. You will, by 
the Spirit, and by the outpourings of your own heart, 
be led from step to step, till you stand before Zion and 
before God. 

Now, this life I propound to you. To you who 
were brought up by Christian parents, I bring back 
the memory of your instruction ; I bring back the 
memory of your childhood days, when you sat at 
your father’s feet, or on your mother’s knee, and 
heard their revered tones ; I bring back these scenes 
24* 


282 


of your early homes, from which many of you have 
wandered far; and I ask you, is it not reasonable that 
you should begin again after this long delay ? Is not 
the time past sufficient in which to have wrought the 
will of the flesh ? There are some here to-day, who 
are hiding away from Christ and truth. There are 
some here whose feet are almost caught in the snare. 
There are some here to whom, if they do not stop, it 
will soon be impossible to stop. Circunjstances will 
environ them in such a way, social influences will so 
operate upon them, and the force of habit, and the 
growing inflammation of passion will so take posses¬ 
sion of them, that they cannot retrace their steps. 

There is to-day—at this moment—a pause where 
you may turn. And if you love your own soul, if you 
have hope of heaven, if you expect to meet again those 
who are dearest to you on earth, I beseech of you, do 
not take another step away from God. Turn, and 
begin to-day to walk towards the celestial city. It 
is time now. You know not that there will be 
another opportunity while you live. 

Oct . 24, 1868. 




SERMON XVII. 

“THE KINGDOM OF PEACE.” 

Text, John 18, 36. 

“Jesus answered, My kingdom is not of this world.” 

Mark 15, 2. 

“ And Pilate asked him, Art thou the King of the Jews ? 
And he answering said unto him, Thou sayest it.” 


XVII. 


From these words of Christ, I desire to draw some 
inferences related to the text more by suggestion 
than by any strict logic. 

The fact that the kingdom of God is not an ordi¬ 
nary kingdom, but a peculiar one, suggests the import¬ 
ance of inquiring into this special Empire among 
empires. 

Let us first recall the idea of kingdom and see 
what are the elements contained in that word. It 
includes the two conceptions, that of power vested in 
a house or an individual, and that of the land, large 
or small, over which this power extends. The king¬ 
dom of Cyrus in its moral form included a sway over 
the property and service of men many, many millions 
strong, and in its material form extended from the 
Indus to the .Egean. Thus the moment you pro¬ 
nounce the word kingdom, there comes before your 
mind a large throng of people, perhaps enslaved like 
the subjects of Xerxes or Solomon, perhaps blest 
with more liberty, like the citizens of England ; and 
then comes the other idea of a domain that reaches 
out in each direction a thousand or half thousand 
miles. An old king defined his empire as reaching 
north to where none could dwell on account of the 
cold, and south to where on account of the heat few 





285 


could find homes, and there is an existing empire 
which boasts of a domain upon which the sun never 
sets. 

These remarks will recall to us the two ideas carried 
along by the word “ kingdom,” the idea of moral power 
swayed by somebody, and of a wide land where this 
power vests for the joy or grief of the citizens. When 
the Great Leader of men, Christ, came, it was expected 
by his disciples that He would at once set up such a 
twofold kingdom over the souls and over the bodies 
of men, that should reach from sea to sea and from 
the rivers to the ends of the earth. The disciples had 
read literally the promises regarding a Christ, and as 
there are those now who expect the Jews to return to 
Jerusalem, and those who expect the third part of 
the stars to fall from heaven, so there were those 
once who thought Christ had come to displace the 
Caesars and group the states of earth into one state, 
and melt all crowns into one. Into the midst of such 
thoughts, into the midst of such gloomy hopes kindled 
in the long injustice of the past centuries, the new 
guide from the skies was compelled by truth to throw 
the doubtless chilling assertion that His kingdom was 
not of this world. 

If reason and the heart were permitted to express 
their regrets in matters so far beyond their measure¬ 
ment one might almost weep that such a being as 
Christ could not then and there have become king of 
such a state as imagination, taught in the long school 
of bondage, had pictured for Him ; a state ruled in 
peace and wisdom and co-extensive with the world. 


286 


But such a result would have been to set aside by 
miracle the long career of man, the long experiment, 
the long self-education of the human race. Abandon¬ 
ing all reflections as to what might have been, we 
return to the simple fact that there is a “ kingdom of 
God, not of this world.” It is not as visible indeed 
as the government which moves to and fro on earth, 
clanking chains alternately upon white and black, and 
reveals not such definite limits as those which sepa¬ 
rate England from France, or which cut off America 
from the great family of nations, but however obscure 
in its action and boundaries, the kingdom of God 
certainly envelopes us and offers its shores to our 
feet, and its atmosphere to our daily life. 

From the fact that God is designer and then crea¬ 
tor of the world, and is the Alpha and Omega of its 
great assemblage of life and intelligence, we must 
infer that He is King also of all we see, or hear, or 
may dream of in our thought. From Creator He at 
once passes to the title of King. If you will reflect 
a moment you will confess that the diadems of all the 
great monarchs who have existed upon earth, all the 
pomp and power between Solomon and Louis XIV, 
have been only weakness, only crowns of dust, com¬ 
pared with the imperial sway of the great King of 
kings. 

But this kingdom of God assumes two forms ; a 
form of fate which no one can escape, and secondly, 
a form of home or fatherland which one may seek 
and joyfully find. All the human family are unavoida¬ 
bly in the empire of God. It presses in closely 


287 


around every soul, of every variety of character and 
place. Into this dominion of God all are born, and 
from it no one can exile himself, however ardently 
he may desire it. An old Greek said ; “ If a man 
does wrong he may escape the government of man 
but not the power of God ; for ” he continues, “ I 
know of no darkness that will hide from Him, no 
fortified place that will shield from His attack, no 
swiftness that will carry one away from His presence.” 
Into this dominion we are all born, equally, and hence 
this cannot be the kingdom of God of which the 
Saviour speaks. He speaks not of that empire which 
as a fate envelopes all who come into this being, but 
of a kingdom where those who love and serve God 
are received into a great friendship, and liberty, and 
life. Not of an iron destiny which surrounds all 
mortals, but of a special empire, into which God 
would, through Him, gather those who would love 
and obey Him. All the universe is indeed God’s 
kingdom, but there will be (an imperium in imperio) 
a fatherland for the loving children in this vale. 
There is a nation of which the most perfect state 
here is but a shadow. 

Let us recall some of the points of difference 
between this kingdom and the ordinary states of men. 
It is not of this world in its great central bond; 
for the bond of human government was force in those 
days when the Saviour disavowed all resemblance. 
The sword had made all those vast assemblages called 
nations, and the sword was the trusted preserver of 
thrones. In the spirit of such surroundings the Jews 


288 


could not realize that Jesus had come in any other 
character than that of a mighty conqueror, and it is no 
doubt true that the disciples expected their master to 
rise in power and blight their enemies, as he had 
cursed a fig-tree, or had made the sea obey him. 

Peter had actually drawn his sword, supposing the 
time of conquest had come; and it is said in defence 
of Judas that he may have thought Christ would 
utterly destroy his enemies, and while Judas should 
enjoy the silver, Christ would ascend a throne. Little 
did they all dream that an empire of soul was coming 
through their Lord, an empire which should eclipse 
forever the sway of Solomon or Xerxes, and even the 
splendor of Pericles. A state was to be then and 
there marked out into which men should rise, not by 
the power of the strongest battalions, not by the 
catapult and ballista which were about to attack 
Jerusalem, not by changing the bed of a river and 
thus reducing a Babylon, but by a spiritual ascent in 
which armies should count nothing, but a human soul 
everything. Instead of ships and chariots and spears 
and bloody battle-fields, the equipments of this new 
State were to be brotherly love, equality, purity of 
heart, faith, hope, and charity. Christ was the great 
first step in the fulfillment of the dreamed-of time 
when swords should be beaten into plow-shares, and 
spears into pruning hooks. 

No human empire in the world’s long history has 
been satisfactory to any thoughtful mind or humane 
heart. There is in them all too much of poverty, too 
much of ignorance, too much despotism, too much 


289 


vanity of rulers and sorrow of the poor, and too much 
brief, suffering human life. 

The boasted light and tenderness of our century 
have not yet transformed nations into anything like 
homes for the multitude. In Europe every nation is 
to-day increasing the size of its armies, and is each 
night dreaming of new and gigantic wars. Unable to 
furnish happy and peaceful homes to their citizens 
they feel fully able to promise tombs to millions of 
men in the flower of their years. 

The jealousy, the vanity of power which led Han¬ 
nibal and Caesar all through their tumultuous and 
bloody years, reign in the human bosom still, and the 
same nature which made that Roman chief stand 
responsible for the death of twelve hundred thousand 
human beings, stained Napoleon with the blood of a 
half million men 1800 years afterwards. The blood 
poured out upon battle-fields is only a poor expression 
of the sorrow of human states ; for war is occasional , 
but the wretchedness of poverty and ignorance, and 
the vice coming from the.injustice of the long past 
are constant —a war in which there has yet been no 
discharge. 

How grand the words of Christ, when, looking 
upon such a spectacle, He declared His kingdom to 
be something different: it was not of this world. Oh, 
what a scene it would be could we remove the thick 
veil which hides from us the far-off future of Earth 
and shuts out Heaven, and see a kingdom of virtue, 
of faith, hope, and charity, of education and Chris¬ 
tianity and immortality complete, rising up out of this 
2 5 


290 


earth, desecrated so long by the bloody footsteps of 
military heroes and ambitious kings ! But just such 
a transfiguration scene does Christianity contemplate. 
As God evoked this beautiful earth from a chaos ; as 
He entered upon the old geologic ages, where storms 
beat incessantly for a thousand years, and where 
great brutes battled for mastery,—entered in love, and 
disentangled the sunshine from the storm, and made 
a sweet blue sky span prairies covered with flowers, 
and caused the vast brute world to perish, to make 
room for laughing school-children, so once again He 
is entering the chaos of nations and is making an 
empire of soul and mind evolve itself from the midst 
of this din of arms and this vaunting ambition. As 
the bright-colored roses spring from a dark, unseemly 
root hidden in plain brown earth, so in the economy 
of the same Creator, there is growing up out of the 
kingdoms of men, an empire of the human mind, where 
the consciousness of culture and love and honor will 
be a sweeter crown than was ever gained where the 
chariot rolled or where the sword flashed in the sun. 

Men in their sober moments confess that there is 
no kingdom but the kingdom of righteousness. They 
know that all our empires are nothing but protections 
against crime and all forms of dishonor. They are 
built to shelter us from the iron hail of other States. 
They are not food but only medicine, given not for 
happiness but because we are ill. When the states¬ 
man or poet sits down to paint the picture of an ideal 
country, he at once tears up the book of history and 
speaks from the holy heights of the soul. 


291 


“ What constitutes a State ? ” 

“ Not high-raised battlement or labored mound, 

Thick” wall or moated gate ; 

Not cities proud, with spires and turrets crowned ; 

Not bays and broad armed ports, 

Where laughing at the storm rich navies ride; 

Not starred and spangled courts.” 

It is the mind and spirit that can alone make up a 
society that offers any happiness of being and any 
arena of action. There is an empire of soul coming, 
led along by the kind, strong hand of God. 

Here and there in all ages, citizens have appeared 
who belonged to this new empire. They perceived 
the great outline of this new world as traced by the 
finger of Christ, and into its beautiful confines they 
joyfully stepped. 

When Saul kept the clothes of those who stoned 
Stephen, he was fully in the confines of the old 
dynasty. That act was what Herod and Nero, and 
any Indian Chief would have done. That, upon a 
larger scale, was what has been done from Cyrus to 
Bonaparte. But when Paul passed over a certain 
spiritual boundary, and, weeping over the memory of 
the martyr, began to persuade Jew and Gentile up to 
the “ higher life,”—persuade not by sword, but by 
human love and entreaty,—his feet then touched the 
grand kingdom of the Almighty. 

Thus looking over history you may see here and 
there individuals stepping over into the empire that is 
not of this world. 

It ought to be true that you could see the whole 


292 


church in all times, everywhere, moving along in this 
path of spiritual power, wholly declining to wear the 
attributes of this world. But the ignorance and 
depravity of men have denied you and me the beauty 
and impressiveness of such a picture, and the church 
has borne the gospel of Jesus in one hand, and the 
fagot and torch in the other. The blood that has 
been shed in the name of political or scientific truth 
is but a few drops compared with the mighty stream 
that has flowed down from the fields of religion. 
Instead of remaining such a sweet persuasion up into 
a higher life as it set forth from the eloquent tongue 
of Christ and His Apostles, it early grasped the sword 
again, and for centuries has advanced half Christian 
and half savage, as though the thumb-screw and the 
rack could be made companions of the spirituality 
and tenderness of Jesus. Had the Christian church 
grasped at once the import of Christ’s kingdom, that 
it was nothing but an entreaty, a movement from 
force to friendship; not a love of empire but a love of 
man ; had it sought only the glory of virtue and faith 
and hope, as Christ and Paul sought them, it is proba¬ 
ble that not now would there be an army in any 
nation nor a ship of war floating in any harbor. 
Completely would the kingdom of mind and soul have 
eclipsed the kingdom of spear and gun. It was the 
misfortune of Christianity, that as soon as its divine 
Christ was in his tomb it began to attach itself to the 
poor human nature, and in some wretched manner to 
form a partnership between the Sermon on the Mount 
and the cross-bows of the tenth century and the gun- 


293 


powder of the thirteenth. Had the church only 
taught the ignorant, and repeated everywhere the 
simple story of Christ ; had it visited the sick and 
talked with the well ; had it confined itself to its 
hymn and prayer, its cross of atonement and crown of 
virtue ; when thrones were offered, had it said, “ My 
kingdom is not of that kind and quality,” what a glory 
would have gathered about its altars, a glory that 
would have made the night of the Dark Ages impossi¬ 
ble. It was the union of gospel and empire that set 
the cross back a thousand years. The early bishops 
were all generals, and the succession from St. Peter, 
and the succession from Julius Caesar followed along 
in parallel paths, and the hands that were laid on the 
ministry in the holy baptism of water were also laid 
on in a baptism of blood ; from each school of theology 
men came forth ordained equally for prayer and for 
slaughter, combining in one person the office of 
inquisitor of the innocent and preacher of Jesus 
Christ. 

No one dares look back and affirm positively what 
might, could, would, or should have been, for God 
only knows what was best and shall be best; but 
looking as far as our limited powers may, we cannot 
but conclude that had this single principle of Jesus, 
that his kingdom was not of this world, been written 
over the church from the outset, the massacre of St. 
Bartholomew would have been kept from the page of 
history ; and even the story of Servetus and Calvin 
would have been transformed into one like that of 
Jesus and Nicodemus, where in the quiet evening 
25* 


294 


two hearts talked together about the way of eternal 
life. Christ threatened no faggots in that hour, but 
the two souls communed together and parted in such 
a love that, when the Blessed One lay dead, the 
Rabbi came to the tomb to pay his offerings of spices 
to a Being to whom he could no longer offer words 
of reverence and gratitude. 

We who are living to-day may look now at these 
words which define the empire of Christ, and learn 
their blessed import; for we are indeed dull students 
if from the terrific Past in which the church has tried 
all forms of force and cruelty,—tried it as a nation, 
tried it as individuals,—we cannot elaborate the 
meaning of the statement that Christ’s empire is not 
an image of those states that lay in such vanity 
around His cradle and His tomb. The ante-Roman 
church warns us, for it battled with the barbarians 
instead of teaching them. It went forth as a bandit 
rather than as a kind school-master. The Roman 
church warns us; the politico-church everywhere 
warns us ; for everywhere it has brought in a harvest 
of power, a crop of bondage and sorrow, but not of 
culture and piety and happiness. When our religious 
teachers wish you and me to think well of the church 
they conceal from us its vast political history, and 
point us to some a Kempis saying his prayers, or 
some Xavier pleading with the savages about Christ. 
Questioned closely, the Romanist explakis away the 
massacre of St. Bartholomew, and the Calvinist 
explains away the death of Servetus, or derides those 
who allude to such events; but all this explanation 


2 9 5 


and derision comes from hearts not wholly free from 
the inhumanity that wrought all those disgraceful 
deeds, and cautions the world, at once, not only 
against the old religious empires, but against those 
who still weave apologies for so much barbarism. 

All the past seems to come up now toward us ; 
comes in its confession of cruelty as Paul confessed 
with grief his “ consenting ” to Stephen’s death, and 
whispers at times, and at times shouts to us that the 
kingdom of Christ is not like the kingdom of this 
world. 

Into other kingdoms men are born or may remove, 
but into this men are re born by a Divine Spirit; 
they are led into it by the Son of God and of man. 
Its gates are not the Mediterranean, which once bore 
the human family from Carthage to Rome, and from 
Alexandria to Athens ; not the gate of the Baltic, 
which leads the wanderers home to the North lands; 
not the great highway of the Atlantic, which opens 
to where fifty millions rejoice, in a republic; of this 
new divine land the only gateway is the soul. Through 
that alone, adorned by faith in Jesus Christ, and 
attended by a choir of virtues, man enters and becomes 
a citizen. Into this flowery empire the heart comes 
by the voice of invitation. Education invites,—friends 
invite,—the voices of all Christian homes invite,—the 
Sanctuary and all Christian ordinances invite,—Christ 
invites,—the Spirit of God invites,—reflection invites ; 
and to these kind voices, the grave and the mystery 
beyond join their eloquence. It is not a fatality, but 
a choice. 


296 


This kingdom not only wholly repudiates all force 
and stands without any soldiers except those of the 
cross, and without any arms except those of truth, 
and hymns, and prayer, but it excludes all littleness 
of idea and of conduct, and is marked in all its out¬ 
lines by the greatness of God. Humanity may come 
and try to write upon this realm some of its earthly 
words, and may attempt to make it not so much a 
nation of the infinite God as their own church-yard, 
or narrow world, just as Dante made Heaven in the 
likeness of the terraces of'Italy, but we know that 
from the broad face of this upper State the marks of 
man will be erased, and the greatness of God, and the 
greatness of the soul will be written all over it. All 
human bitterness will remain here, just as when the 
spirit goes to heaven it leaves in the tomb its dust. 

My friends, confess the existence of two kingdoms 
as lying around you this day. Or, since in this era 
of liberty your heart has learned to love the term 
better, two republics, one of America, one of God. 

All the voices of men speaking from the grief of 
bondage and kingcraft announce the one; Jesus 
Christ, speaking in the name of a glorious liberty of 
the soul, announces the other. Make of the republic 
of man only the flight of marble steps to lead you to 
the kingdom of heaven. Remember the gateways to 
this spiritual land, and remember that you and your 
friends must enter it not by violence, but by invita¬ 
tion. Plead with them and with your own souls. 
Oh, great and glorious fatherland of us all! Its great 
boundaries encircle all the little realms of earth ! 


297 


France, Germany, England, America, all lie within it 
like islands in a vast sea; and those long years in 
which the temples of Greece and the gardens of 
Persia have been crumbling, lie like dew-drops upon 
the morning fringe of that upper day. Soon to each 
of you this kingdom here, reaching from Atlantic to 
Pacific, will, in all its whole extent, furnish you only 
a tomb among its high mountains or low prairie 
flowers, and then you will need that “ kingdom not of 
this world.” When the confines of this nation shall 
fade from sight, may the great boundaries of Christ’s 
empire, that of the soul, suddenly spring up, and by 
its waving white banner of love betray to your enrap¬ 
tured sight the land of happiness and endless life. 

July 2 7, 187;. 


“ The Lord is my shepherd, no want I shall know; 

I feed in green pastures, safe folded I rest; 

He leadeth my soul where the still waters flow, 

Restores me when wandering, redeems when oppressed.” 

“ Through the valley and shadow of death though I stray, 
Since Thou art my Guardian, no evil I fear; 

Thy rod shall defend me, Thy staff be my stay ; 

No harm can befall, with my Comforter near.” 


SERMON XVIII. 

“CHRISTIAN COMPLETENESS.” 

Text, Colossians 2, 10. 

“ Ye are complete in Him.” 

Colossians 4, 12. 

“ That ye may stand perfect and complete in the will of God.” 


XVIII. 


One of the ablest thinkers of the age has said,— 
and said it with a pathos that touches the heart,— 
“ In vain I strain all the springs of my frail, corporeal 
machine,—I can only lay hold of the few objects that 
are within my reach. I think, but among all number¬ 
less truths that I perceive, I can seize only a few, 
while beyond these I see dimly, or not at all. I love, 
but my power of loving, which turns with a sudden 
impulse toward all which contains some evident or 
secret perfection, can only cling to frail, perishable, 
changeable objects, not one of which fulfills the 
promises it made. Everywhere there is a limit. I 
change its place, but I cannot destroy it; still it 
weighs me down. There is in me an indefinite 
power of development, which aspires to unfold itself 
in a thousand ways, and which, meeting everywhere 
with obstructions, now strains violently against them, 
now falls back upon itself, weak and weary, dis¬ 
couraged—an imperfect being striving after perfec¬ 
tion, but reaching it only in an imperfect manner.” 
This is the language of one of the ripest scholars of 
the age, and its utterance demonstrates that there is 
no wisdom of science and books that rounds out the 
soul to its full capacity ; that there is no university 
that graduates the complete man. 

But there is a school whose training stops not short 


30i 


of this ideal completeness ; whose Master is not con¬ 
tent unless each disciple shall both realize in the 
outer life the completeness of a full and symmetrical 
development, and have that consciousness of fulfilling 
the ends of existence, and that satisfaction in all the 
relations and experiences of the soul, which is the 
completeness of the life within. The chief Apostle of 
the school,—the Plato who gave to Christianity its 
dialectic form, teaches us that we can find our fullness 
in Him, and only in Him, “in whom dwelleth all the 
fullness of the Godhead bodily;” and this, “seeing 
He is the Head of all principality and power.” 

The completeness that the Apostle has in mind is 
not that which belongs to Christianity as a system of 
faith and salvation, nor simply completeness of charac¬ 
ter in a religious point of view, though both these are 
implied in the union of the believer with Christ; but 
a thorough human completeness attained in Him who 
first brought into our humanity, in His own person, 
the fullness of the Godhead, and then raised their 
humanity to headship over all principality and power. 
This completeness in Christ comes into direct con¬ 
trast with the vaunted perfecting of Humanity through 
science and an extrinsic culture. By this contrast, 
however, the Apostle does not condemn speculative 
inquiry concerning God, nor the using in matters of 
religion, knowledge attained by reason. 

In opposing the pretentious philosophy by which he 
was surrounded, he takes exception not to the object 
at which it aims—the development of the Godlike in 
Humanity—but to the medium through which it pro- 
26 


302 


fesses to accomplish this, as a spontaneous out¬ 
growth of human intelligences ; whereas Christ and 
Christianity fully, intelligently, and cordially embraced 
are alone completeness to man. It is completeness, 
therefore, in the broadest view, the completeness of 
the individual under every aspect of his being; the 
completeness of mankind in all true development. 

First. In further developing this line of thought, 
I remark : that human history finds its completeness 
only in Christ. 

Viewing the world before Christ in its leading 
moral aspects, we note as common to mankind, a 
consciousness of higher spiritual relations. A tradi¬ 
tionary descent from the gods, an assumed fellow¬ 
ship with the gods, or an avowed aspiration toward 
the gods, one or all of these traits common to the 
mythology and the literature of antiquity, reveal a 
common consciousness, however dim or deluded, of 
some spiritual affinity higher than nature ; and hence, 
in what one styles “ World history,” the history of 
humanity, we see “an original capacity for a glory 
and significance far surpassing that of mere nature 
history.” 

Religion world-wide, worship universal among men, 
laws based upon religious ideas and enforced by 
religious sanctions, poetry pervaded with the pres¬ 
ence and agency of supernatural beings, philosophy 
speculating upon the soul, God, the universe, the 
future, and the invisible, prophecy intimating a golden 
agi to come, or tradition cherishing the memory of 
au rtimacy of the gods with men,—these universal 


303 


products of human thought and feeling reveal some 
subtle spiritual bond by which the race is held 
together. 

In all languages, poetry and mythology have their 
paradise ; either lost by the fall, or yet to be attained ; 
but while, for a long period, we trace from nation to 
nation, and from age to age, a progress of the religious 
idea, with respect to modes and objects of worship, 
and while there is progress in philosophic thought, 
yet there is also a visible decline of religion as a power, 
a growing laxity of public morals, and a confession of 
the impotence of philosophy to revive the one or to 
restrain the other. 

In that moral sympathy and correspondence of man¬ 
kind in all ages, nations, and conditions to which I 
have alluded, human history finds a unity more vital 
than that of language and of blood, and a continuity 
that survives the accidents of race and empire. And 
as in every race and every epoch we seek for some 
personal representative, some type-character as its 
exponent, so for universal man we seek some personal 
representative who shall round into fullness the 
possibilities of his being; and Him we find in Christ. 

In Christ, Humanity becomes a brotherhood , with¬ 
out respect of race, or nation, or place, or time. In 
Christ, those narrower sympathies and affections that 
constitute the love of home, of people, of country, 
expand into the love of man ; and this love becomes the 
universal law of commerce, of polity, of society, while 
law, in its essential elements of justice, of order, of 
authority, is transmuted into love. In Christ, liberty, 




304 

for which mankind had yearned in thought, in religion, 
and in government, becomes the higher, wider free¬ 
dom of the kingdom of God : the soul made free by 
His truth becomes heir of all things ; the children of 
the kingdom are made possessors of life and of death ; 
this inner kingdom is above all outer kingdoms, and 
either through them all, or over them all, it shall yet 
assert the glorious liberty of the sons of God. 

In Christ, the failures of the old religions and 
philosophies are compensated: the yearnings of the 
old poets and prophets are met; the lack of the old 
civilizations is supplied : the desire of all nations is 
fulfilled. Christ sums up in Himself the long exposi¬ 
tion of humanity. The lines of conscience and of 
thought, the lines of culture and of hope, along which 
nations and ages had slowly and uncertainly worked 
their way toward a good desired but unknown, are 
drawn together and twined about this one historic 
human life ; while all later lines of man’s progress 
in a true civilization run back to that same life for 
impulse and direction. The cross binds the longings 
of the old world with the realizations of the new. 
Humanity, perplexed by the currents of its own exist¬ 
ence and the drift of its own history, finds both at 
last filled out in Him. 

Second. If from history we pass to science ,—from 
man upon the stage of action to man in the sphere of 
knowledge, we find that here also, as thinker and 
knower, man gains completeness only in Christ. 
That science which confines itself to the observation 
of physical facts and phenomena may seem to present 


, 305 

no point of contact with the spiritual system of Chris¬ 
tianity. It has ever been sought to array the one 
against the other. But the measure of a true science 
is “longer than the earth, and broader than the sea.” 
It is not given to scientists alone to conjugate the 
verb “to know.” 

There are facts of consciousness, there are affirma¬ 
tions of conscience upon moral truth, there are laws 
of thought and of being, that are as sure as the ever¬ 
lasting hills, and that will stand when the very ele¬ 
ments of nature shall have dissolved with fervent 
heat. Back of all objects of thought is still the 
thinker; back of all knowledge is the knower; and 
that is the science of sciences whose very object- 
matter is a condition of the existence of all other 
sciences. Where, then, shall we seek for the com¬ 
pleteness of man as a thinker and knower, or for the 
center of the circle of science in which he moves ? 

Ah, it is in Him, the typical man, in whom we see 
filled out the true idea of man’s place over creation ; 
and we, whom a false science would drag down within 
the grasp of material laws as creatures of Earth and 
sense, and who by sin have fallen under the dominion 
of the flesh, may be raised through Him to our 
Divine Original, and made complete in Him who is 
the head of all principality and power. When we 
behold the Son of God entering our humanity to 
redeem it; when we behold Him again exalting that 
glorified humanity to His throne, we feel that not by 
science but by Christianity does man attain the con¬ 
sciousness of his origin and destiny, and realize the 
26* 


30 6 


true dignity and worth of his nature : yea, that science 
itself, whether as concerning man or nature, is com¬ 
plete only in Christ. For science leading us back 
from phenomena to causes, from facts to laws, and 
from causes and laws to powers originating or direct¬ 
ing these, demands at last the first great cause of the 
universe and its final cause, and finds both in* Him 
who is the first and the last, the beginning of the 
creation of God ; “For by Him were all things created 
that are in Heaven, and that are in Earth, visible and 
invisible, whether they be thrones, or dominions, or 
principalities, or powers: all things were created by 
Him and for Him : and He is before all things, and 
by Him all things consist : and He is the Head of the 
body, the Church ”; and we alike in the knowledge of 
ourselves and in the knowledge of that which was, or 
is, or is to come, are complete in Him. 

Third. Turning our view for a moment to man as 
a being of affections and emotions, we find that both 
for the regulation of these in their character and direc¬ 
tion, and for satisfying them in their object and 
measure, Christ is his completeness. Itself susceptible 
of grief and capable of all the deep and tender sym¬ 
pathies of sorrow, the soul finds its solace in this 
“ man of sorrows,” its rest in His diviner sympathy. 
Itself formed for love, and often wrung with disap¬ 
pointments and losses because of love, the soul finds 
in this perfect man one whose friendship purifies and 
elevates its affections, whose love fixes and satisfies 
its own. Itself capable of heroism, and stirred by 
deeds of sacrifice, it finds its grandest ideal,—nay, 


3 °; 


more than tragedy, heroism, patriotism, all that 
humanity hath done, or conceived, of self-sacrificing 
virtue, it finds realized in Him, whose cross sustains 
a more than human agony by a more than human 
love. All worthiest affections, all noblest impulses, 
all truest, best emotions of the soul compressed into 
one utterance, finds that to be “ Complete in Him!' 

Fourth. It remains but to notice—what is obvious 
upon merest mention—that man’s moral culture both 
in its philosophy and in its methods, finds complete¬ 
ness only in Christ. 

The old philosophy failed to reach the radical 
defectiveness of human character, or to provide for 
this a remedy that should be internal, transforming, 
universal, and permanent. 

The old morality failed to exhibit a living example 
of its ideal virtues, or to enforce these with divine 
sanctions. 

The confession of Plato, sad in its very magnanim¬ 
ity, tells the story: “ The Creator and'Father of the 
universe, it is hard to discover ; and when found, it is 
impossible to make him known to all.” 

Neither Greece nor India could, by searching, find 
out God, in the way, not of revelation only, but of 
reconciliation also ; and this, not for an elite few, but 
for the whole world of mankind. 

In Christ is offered “the solution of the enigmas 
that had occupied all thinking minds, and with the 
answering of which speculation had busied itself in 
vain.” This it does through love—“A simple, uni¬ 
versally comprehensible word, adapted alike to all 


3o8 


stages of human culture, for satisfying the religious 
want.” It brought God into direct contact with the 
personal soul. 

Christ redeems men from sin by the sacrifice of 
Himself, once for all, and by the power of His life, 
His doctrine, and His spirit always in the world. 
Just where all other systems fail—in radical applica¬ 
tion, in universal fitness, in practical example, in 
divine authority, in an inherent and perpetual life- 
power—just here is our redemption complete in Him. 

We need something more than a normally developed 
Adam, we need a deliverer of all, who must bear in 
himself that which he communicates—even “the full¬ 
ness of Him who filleth all in all.” 

Before Jesus came, religious thought had passed 
through many revolutions : since He came, it has 
made great conquests ; yet it does not go beyond, and 
it can never go beyond, the essential ideas that Jesus 
has created. He has fixed forever the idea of pure 
worship. He has created in religion pure sentiment. 
The foundation of the true religion is all His work. 
After Him there is nothing left but to develop and to 
make fruitful. And this great foundation was entirely 
the personal work of Jesus. To cause Himself to be 
adored to that degree He must have been adorable. 
Love does not go forth without an object worthy to 
kindle it; and did we know nothing of Jesus but the 
passion with which He inspired His followers, we 
must still affirm that He was great and pure. 

We place, then, upon the highest summit of human 
greatness the person of Jesus—that sublime Person 


309 


who each day yet rules the destinies of the world, 
whom it is permitted even to call Divine. 

Such is the homage that skepticism itself (Renan) 
is constrained to render to the name of Jesus. We 
accept the homage to express our grateful love to Him 
who is our Head. In all that pertains to man’s 
spiritual nature, morality, theology, worship, holiness, 
we are complete in Him , who is the head of all princi¬ 
pality and power. This is He who has been preached 
to you. And this is He in whom, if ever, ye shall be 
made complete. 

If the views that I have been presenting this 
morning are correct, we infer 

(i.)—That the only true and abiding prosperity for 
a church—or for individuals—is to be found as the 
result of that spiritual culture which is the outgrowth 
of faith in Jesus Christ and is made “Complete in 
Him.” Whatever conditions of external prosperity 
may be desirable, these must all be subordinated to 
the development of that inner life of faith and love 
which it is Christ’s most cherished object to com¬ 
plete in the heart of every believer. 

(2.)—If these views are correct, then the church of 
Christ must accept the issue which the Providence 
and grace of God offers to it, in a community like this, 
to work out the problem of Christian growth and 
progress, and the saving of multitudes who otherwise 
are lost. 

O ye children of Zion, in all the pressure of thoughts 
like these ; in all the perplexities and distresses of 
your individual life ; let the gospel of Him in whom 
you stand complete, be An anchor to your souls , sure 


3io 


and steadfast. To the attainment of the happiness 
which it unveils, consecrate every purpose, and bend 
every faculty. In the day of sloth, let it quicken you 
to energy. In the hour of despondency, let it re¬ 
animate your hope. In the season of woe, let it pour 
the Balm of Gilead into your hearts. View every 
blessing as a token of the love of Him in whom you 
are made perfect, and by whom you are to be pre¬ 
sented faultless before the presence of His glory with 
exceeding joy. 

Stretch your imagination to the utmost; raise your 
wishes higher and higher, while you live ; and not a 
thought shall miss its object; not a wish shall be dis¬ 
appointed. Eternity is now heaping up treasures for 
your possession. The voice of mercy, with sweet 
and transporting sound, bids you arise and come away . 
The first-born of God open their arms to welcome 
you to their divine assembly. The Saviour, who has 
gone before to prepare a mansion in His Father’s 
house for your reception, informs you that all things 
are now ready. With triumph, then, and ecstacy, 
hasten to enjoy the reward of His infinite labors in an 
universe of good, and in the glory which He had with 
the Father before ever the world was. 

“ My soul complete in Jesus stands ! 

It fears no more the law’s demands; 

The smile of God is sweet within, 

Where all before was guilt and sin.” 

“ A song of praise my soul shall sing, 

To our eternal, glorious King ! 

Shall worship humbly at his feet, 

In whom alone it stands complete.” 



3i 


Here, brethren , I rest my ministry. This Christ of 
whom I have spoken to-day, and in whom I pray ye 
may all be presented complete in the great day of final 
reckoning, in the being who by His blessed Spirit of 
Grace shall make complete , whatever in weakness of 
human endeavor, has been offered to Him as a tribute 
of love and faith, by either you or me, during the 
course of that ministry which this day brings to its 
end. 

It remains, then, for me, in a few brief words, in 
the name of Him in whom ye stand complete, to “com¬ 
mend you to God, and to the word of His grace, which 
is able to build you up, and to give you an inheritance 
among all them who are sanctified.” 

My work is now fast drawing to a close. When 
the light of a few more mornings shall have gilded 
the east, I shall leave you to go into a land of 
strangers, “ not knowing the things that shall befall 
me there.” A thousand tender recollections are 
awakened at the thought. For four years I have 
been with you in fear, and in much weakness, with 
many tears and temptations. I have seen some of 
you in affliction. I have stood with you in the cham¬ 
bers of sickness. I have walked with you into the 
field of graves. Scenes of everlasting interest have 
passed between us since we have been together. I 
have seen you in the house of God when the Spirit 
of Jesus moved upon the assembly with quickening 
grace. I have seen some of you trembling on the 
borders of eternal woe, when there seemed but a step 
between you and death. I have seen some of you 


312 


open your eyes on a heaven revealed, and have heard 
you begin your immortal song. I have seen the tears 
of parental joy while the children in the temple have 
sung , “ Hosanna to the Son of David ! Blessed is he 
that cometh in the name of the Lord! hosanna in the 
highest! ” These seasons are past, never to return ; 
but they cannot be forgotten. 

I have walked these streets, and have gone in and 
out before you as a minister of the Gospel, and now 
stand before you to testify in this sacred and hallowed 
spot, to the goodness of God—his loving kindness, 
and tender mercy, unto me and to my household,— 
and unto you and your households for the four years 
past. 

In all the blessings of Divine Providence and grace, 
you will, I trust, continue to have a part. I trust that 
Jesus will again and again walk these streets with 
power and great glory, and your children, and your 
children’s children become the inheritors of richest 
blessings of covenant love. Should I live to hear 
this account from you, how will my heart throb with 
desire to come and see the repeated triumphs of 
Immanuel on ground endeared by so many tender 
recollections ! I will anticipate the joy, and it shall 
gladden the hour of parting. 

When I came among you, I had hoped to be per¬ 
mitted to go hand in hand with you to the grave. 
But God had a different purpose. By evident indica¬ 
tions of his will, he has pointed me to another part of 
his vineyard. His hand has manifestly shaped all 
the circumstances of this separation. You have seen 


313 


it, and owned it, and submitted to it with a spirit ot 
magnanimity which has done honor to your profes¬ 
sion. You have given me no other reproaches than 
your sympathy and affection. I thank God, and I 
thank you, that we part in love. I thank you also for 
all the affection and respect with which you have 
treated me during the whole period of our connection. 
You have carried me in your arms to the throne of 
grace. There you have stood and wrestled with tears, 
and entreaties that would not be denied. If I forget 
this kindness, let my right hand forget her cunning. 

When my mind turns to another view of my 
ministry, it is filled with solemnity and awe. That 
ministry will affect every soul of you to all eter¬ 
nity. Every action which we perform, every spirit¬ 
ual privilege which we enjoy, extends its influence 
to eternal ages. Some have already gone from 
their seats in this house, within the period of four 
years, to feel the everlasting effects of a preached 
gospel. Some of them, I trust, are now in heaven, 
contemplating the glory of the doctrines which they 
heard, and praising God for the displays of his grace 
here. Others, I fear, have gone from the place conse¬ 
crated by the impress of a Saviour’s feet, to feel the 
conviction of truths which they opposed, and to 
mourn at the remembrance of privileges which they 
slighted. O that none of my living hearers were 
pressing forward to the same end ! But when I look 
around on this assembly, mine eye affecteth my heart . 
I perceive many left out of the church whom I had 
hoped to see planted in the house of the Lord. I came 
2 7 


to you with a message from God ;—I have delivered 
it;—I am now departing; and you have not obeyed 
the message. Some of you will go into the land of 
silence before I visit you again, and will see my face 
no more—will hear my voice no more. For the last 
time, then, I entreat you, I charge you in the name of 
the everlasting God, not to draw me into judgment 
against you—not to let me hear you mourn at the 
last, when your flesh and your body are consumed, 
and say, how have I hated instruction, and my heart 
despised reproof ! 

If the gospel, which has proceeded from lips 
unworthy to proclaim it, has been blessed to the salva¬ 
tion of any, the time will come, if my hopes do not 
deceive me, when we shall meet again,.to enjoy a 
union more dear than we ever felt before, and to 
review, with eternal gratitude, the scenes which have 
been acted here. Ten thousand ages after all earthly 
ties shall cease, Christian ministers, with their spirit¬ 
ual children, will be joined in affections and sympa¬ 
thies known only to the inhabitants of heaven. While 
I look around on this assembly, and behold faces so 
dear, which, as pastor, I may not look upon again in 
this world, I will press this hope to my heart. When 
we meet there, my dear friends, and grow to each 
other like one soul, these parting tears will fall no 
more. God Almighty keep you, my beloved, and 
comfort you, and keep you from falling, and be your 
everlasting portion. 

When I am withdrawn to another part of the vine¬ 
yard, to endure the toils and trials which God shall 


3i5 


there appoint, let me still live in your remembrance 
and prayers. In future years, if any tenderness 
shall be awakened by the recollection of one who 
loved you much, and once was not an alien from 
your hearts, let it carry you to your closets, and 
vent itself in one prayer that shall strengthen 
him in his arduous labors. And, then, when that 
grand triumphal shout shall be heard, sounding from 
turret to tower in the city of our God—and the echo 
shall reverberate, till gurgling brook, and valley, and 
hilltop and lofty mountain shall catch the flying 
strain, and old ocean with its everlasting tides shall 
roll in the swelling chorus : “Now is come salvation, 
and strength, and the kingdom of our God, and the 
power of his Christ,”—“ The kingdoms of this world 
are become the kingdoms of our Lord and of his Christ; 
and He shall reign forever and ever. Then sharing 
His glory whose name we now bear, together with an 
innumerable company, we shall return, and come unto 
Zion with songs, and with everlasting joy upon our 
heads ! Come glorious day, come quickly, while we, 
thy servants, wait and watch. And the glory shall 
be unto the Father, and unto the Son, and unto the 
Holy Ghost, as it was in the beginning, is now, and 
ever shall be, world without end. Amen. 

Brethren, The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be 
with you all. Amen. 

March 6, 1875. 




























































- 








































































SERMON XIX. 

“ONE-SIDED LIFE.” 

Text, Philippians 3, 13. 

** This one thing I do.” 


27* 


XIX. 


Much of the interest of St. Paul’s writings lies in 
their revelations of himself. He took his friends into 
his confidence. He let them see the working of his 
own spiritual nature. He was not a mere theologian, 
living exclusively in the realm of love, he was a man 
of warm and wide sympathies. He knew that men 
are influenced almost more by example than by 
argument. 

And so he tells of his own struggles and conflicts, 
of his own victories and defeats. These self-revela¬ 
tions have been very powerful in the church. They 
have held up before men high ideals, and have drawn 
them outward and upward in the divine life. 

The text contains one of the most impressive of 
these self-revelations. 

I fear, however, that it is very generally misunder¬ 
stood or misapplied. The phrase, “ This one thing I 
do,” has been too often rent from its connections and 
made to mean almost the opposite of what the 
Apostle intended. I am disposed to think that the 
blame of this lies, to some extent, with our modern 
pulpit method. 

Preachers are fond of choosing short and easily- 
remembered texts, and so they sometimes rend them 
from the connection by which they are either qualified 
or explained. In some cases they are made to say 


319 


the very thing which the Apostle would have con¬ 
demned. Now this text has been used again and 
again to show that the Apostle was a man of one idea ; 
that he did just one thing; and that a like method 
should be adopted by all who own the same Master. 
These words have been made to say, that men should 
have one great purpose, for which every other should 
be utterly neglected. Now, this is a conception of 
life which never entered into the Apostle’s mind. 

Indeed, it is a conception against which his life and 
his words were a continual protest. It is an idea 
against which we all need to be put on our guard. 
We naturally tend to it. Our natures gather about, 
and go out to one idea and purpose. It is the easiest 
thing in the world to yield to one great master passion. 
It is a far easier thing for the gardener to let a plant 
be drawn just in one direction than to secure a com¬ 
plete, an all-round development. It is far easier for 
the captain to let his vessel yield herself to one of the 
strong currents which may meet her on the way than 
so to regulate her course as to go directly on to the 
desired port. It is far easier to have just one thing 
to do and do it, than to meet all the demands which 
arise in our complex life. 

I will not say that the men of one idea have not left 
their mark for good upon the world. It would be folly 
to say that; but this I will say,—and soon I will try 
to give illustrations of it,—that some of them in the 
very doing of one thing have caused infinite harm to 
those who had the best claim upon them. That is 
true both in the lowest and in the highest realms. 


320 


For example: There are men of business who say, 
“This one thing I do,” until everything is looked at 
in the light of their trade. The world becomes just a 
great mart, (and of all “ high days ” and great days, 
and days to be held in everlasting remembrance, there 
is none that can to them stand a moment’s comparison 
in importance with a corporation “pay-day!') If they 
look at a landscape they do not see its beauty, but 
they think of the value of the timber by which it is 
wooded, or of the ore which lies beneath the soil, or 
the corn which is waving in the Summer sun. Even 
when they look at their children, the great question 
is, “ Will they develop into good men of business, or 
take care of the fortune I am gathering ? ” All things 
are related to their ledger, or bank-book. 

There are literary men who say, “ This one thing I 
do.” They are never happy save amid their books. 
All time seems wasted which is not spent either in 
reading, or thinking, or writing. If they could they 
would alter the grand old declaration of the catechism, 
“ Man’s chief end is to glorify God,” and make it read, 
“Man’s chief end is to.write or study books.” They 
would estimate their life by the number of books they 
have read or written. To them, heaven would most 
nearly resemble some big library. 

There are even some housekeepers who say, “This 
one thing I do.” The very end of life is a well-regu¬ 
lated, well-ordered house. Cleanliness, regularity, 
economy, order, these are the crowning virtues of life. 
Their horizon is narrowed down to the four walls of 
their dwelling. They are angry with the Marys who 


321 


only sit in contemplation at Christ’s feet, and they say 
impatiently, “ Dost thou not care that my sister hath 
left me to serve alone ; bid her, therefore, that she 
help me.” 

Nor is this spirit confined to the World. It finds 
its way into the Church. There are those who say of 
religion, “ This one thing I do.” Religious acts seem 
to them the Alpha and Omega of life. There is a 
tone of contempt in all of their references to what 
they are pleased to call the World. The end of life 
seems to them to be the doing of religious acts rather 
than the living a religious life. They are obliged, it 
may be, to go into the world, but it seems time lost to 
them. 

There are others who choose one department of the 
Church’s work, and say, “This one thing I do.” 

Division of labor is good, necessary in the church 
as in the world. The mischief begins when the 
worker thinks his own the all-important part to which 
everything else must give way. I have seen ministers 
act thus in relation to the pulpit. I have known 
teachers act thus in relation to the work of the school. 
I have known many others, especially so-called tem¬ 
perance workers, act thus in relation to the particular 
department of service they may have taken up. 

Now, let me say emphatically that no condemnation 
—not even the most remote,—is intended of any of 
these pursuits. We should fare badly without them. 
The world could scarcely go on apart from them. 
To the enterprise of commerce half our comforts are 
due. To the researches and thought of the student 


322 


we owe the priceless possession of our literature ; 
upon the Marthas of the house we are dependent for 
its manifold comforts. The church could not exist 
apart from her teachers, preachers, singers, visitors, 
helpers. God bless every worker, in commerce, in 
literature, in the house, in the church ; nay, more, 
God be praised for all noble enthusiasm in their work. 

But it is at our peril that we let our life turn 
toward just one purpose, even though it be the noblest 
and holiest. For what will be the effect ? 

1. It will make us disagreeable. 

There is a proverb which bids us “beware of the 
man of one book.” It is equally needful to be on our 
guard against the man of one idea. It is sometimes a 
wearying task to dwell with people of one idea, even 
though it be a noble one. How soon one tires of 
their company,—of men who can talk of nothing but 
prices and markets; of farmers whose thoughts are 
always of crops ; of students who care for nothing but 
books; of women who are nothing but housekeepers ; 
of religious men who keep to their little groove. 

Brethren, we must be on our guard against ruts. 
We must lift our eyes occasionally from the special 
tasks of our life, and remember that there is other 
work equally needful to the world’s life and blessed¬ 
ness. . 

2. It will make us neglectful of others. 

Men of one idea, men who say, “ This one thing I 
do,” are sure to be neglectful in some direction. 
They look simply at one object, while life presents 
manifold objects and claims. 


323 


Life is a great system of connected interests. 
That is the noblest man or woman who responds to 
all these various claims. I will take an illustration of 
the point I wish to press, which, though it comes 
from a long way off, is none the less significant as 
showing the tendency to which I refer, and which 
undoubtedly has a great many similar, if less conspicu¬ 
ous, illustrations nearer home. I found it in a sketch 
of the life of that distinguished Englishman,—the late 
Thomas Carlyle. It throws a flood of light upon the 
career of this man who, with multitudes, is so great a 
hero. And what do we find ? * Just this, that Thomas 
Carlyle, intent upon his books,—books which, with 
some conspicuous exceptions of really valuable 
writings, I will undertake to say lie upon thousands 
of shelves unread, and books which have probably 
never done much good to any one in the world,—was 
utterly neglectful of the wife, who had the great¬ 
est of all claims upon him. Never was story written 
of more cruel and shameful neglect. I cannot and 
need not stop to cite the instances that are recorded 
of this conduct on his part. But, let every allowance 
be made for a naturally violent temperament, and can 
we not see, even then, how absorption in a single 
pursuit made him neglectful of one who should have 
had his earliest and tenderest care ? When it was too 
late, he saw it all. His words after her death reveal 
to the careful observer the consciousness of neglect 
—a neglect amounting almost to cruelty while she 
lived. Such illustrations could be multiplied a 
hundred fold. I could tell of cases in which absorp- 


324 


tion in even religious work has brought about a neg¬ 
lect of home-claims which has been fruitful of evils— 
evils beyond remedy. It has been said that the chil¬ 
dren of ministers frequently turn out badly ; more 
frequently than those of other people. I do not 
believe it. I am confident that statistics would dis¬ 
prove the charge, which has probably arisen from the 
fierce light which often breaks upon a minister and 
his surroundings, revealing them all. But if it were 
true,—and in the cases in which it is true, I should be 
at no loss for an explanation,—the very absorption of 
the minister in his work may easily make him forget¬ 
ful of those nearest and dearest to him, and who have 
the first claim upon his care and training. Be that as 
it may, I say advisedly to you, let nothing,—neither 
business, nor study, nor even religion,—make you 
careless or neglectful of the manifold claims and 
relationships of your life. 

He is the most religious man who seeks to meet all 
the necessities of his position ; faithful in business, in 
the family, in the social circle, in the church, in the 
nation ; and who ever remembers that we are mem¬ 
bers one of another. 

3. It will make us one-sided. 

The man of one idea is one without proportion. 
He is a spiritual monster. St. Paul may have had 
some vision of such when he said, “ If the whole body 
were an eye, where were the hearing : if the whole 
were hearing, where were the smelling?” Hardly 
less horrible would it be to see a face all eyes, or all 
nose, or all ears, than it is to see spiritual deformity, 


325 


the whole nature drawn in one direction. The true 
cultivation of human character seeks to make a man 
well proportioned in mind and in spirit. If his nature 
is strongly drawn toward that outward part of life 
called “ business ,” let him “ seek those things which 
are above/’ If he is getting to be a mere student of 
books, let him open his heart to the freshening influ¬ 
ence of nature. If, even, his eyes are so lifted to the 
Unseen as to neglect life’s claims and duties, let him 
remember that this is God’s world as truly as is the 
next world. Everywhere He lives and works. Let 
the grand ideal of the Apostle James rise before him 
—“To be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.” 

Second. Of what does Paul say ,—“ This one thing 
I doT 

“Forgetting those things which are behind and 
reaching forth unto those things which are before.” 

The one thing is, never to be content, but ever to 
be pressing on. In that sense we may each one 
rightly echo His word. When we say about any one 
pursuit or work, “This one thing I do,” we are out of 
harmony with the spirit of this declaration. When 
we say the Past shall not be the measure of the 
Future, but the Future shall expand with the ripened 
fruitage of the seed of the Past, then we are really 
one with the Apostle. 

Now, if time permitted, I think I could show you 
that St. Paul was not the mere man of one idea that 
some suppose ; that his ideal of life was a large and 
many-sided one. Let me briefly suggest two proofs 
of this : 


28 


326 

1. I will take one nearest at hand in this very 
Epistle. 

In the 4th chapter, from the 8th verse, we have 
these grand words : 

“ Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, what¬ 
soever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, 
whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are 
lovely, whatsoever things are of good report ; if there 
be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on 
these things.” (Phil. 4, 8.) 

These are not the words of a man of one idea. 
When you remember that to a large extent they 
embody the fulness of the Greek estimate of life, they 
are grandly noble and all inclusive words. 

The noblest religion takes account of all good 
things. It should be a part of our religion to acknowl¬ 
edge and strive for the true and blessed in every 
realm. 

2. The second proof I offer is that the one thing of 
the Apostle was to strive after the high calling of God 
in Christ Jesus. 

Paul was striving after life as seen in the Christ. 
That was no stunted or partially developed life. It 
was a life perfect and complete, wanting nothing. 
There is the true ideal for us. Not in the partial and 
one-sided development which so generally is found in 
the saints, from whose pictures one turns with the 
feeling that they are utterly disproportioned,—that 
they are mere exaggerations of a single virtue, but in 
Jesus Christ, in whom there is neither Greek nor Jew, 
barbarian, Scythian, bond nor free. The man Christ 


327 


Jesus, most human because most divine,—most divine 
because most human. How complete is that ideal! 
How regardful was Christ of every claim, of every 
relationship. How He filled every sphere of His life, 
so that the Apostles could call Him the man Christ 
Jesus. 

The beautiful and grand thought of one of our most 
beloved poets (J. G. Whittier) expresses the truth 
that may fittingly close this discourse : 

“Our Friend, our Brother, and our Lord, 

What may Thy service be ? 

Nor name, nor form, nor ritual word, 

But simply following Thee. 

“ We bring no ghastly holocaust, 

We pile no graven stone : 

He serves the best who loveth most 
His brothers and Thy own. 

“ Thy litanies sweet offices 
Of love and gratitude, 

Thy sacramental liturgies 
The joy of doing good. 

“ In vain shall waves of incense drip 
The vaulted nave around, 

In vain the minster turret lip 
Its brazen weight of sound. 

“ The heart must ring Thy Christmas bells, 

Thy inward actions raise : 

Its faith and hope Thy canticles, 

And its obedience praise.” 


328 


Let us fix our eyes upon Jesus Christ, and we shall 
look not only every man on his own things, but we 
shall remember that we are members one of another, 
and thus fill the sphere and do the varied work of our 
life till we attain to the full stature of men in Christ 
Jesus. 

Dec. 9, 1882. 


SERMON XX. 

“RELATION OF CHRISTIANITY TO BUSINESS.” 

Text, Eccl. 9, io. 

“ Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might; for 
there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom in the 
grave, whither thou goest,” and 

Colossians 3, 23. 

“Whatsoeverye do, do it heartily as to the Lord, and not as 
unto men.” 


28* 


XX. 


It is commonplace to declare that Christianity must 
be shown to be not only a doctrine, but a life. For 
the translation of Gospel truth into practical life there 
are two very different ways. One is to bring out that 
truth itself in all possible simplicity and boldness, and 
to leave it to grow and adapt itself to the various needs 
and trials, duties, and opportunities of daily life. 

The other is to examine its actual bearing upon 
these exigencies themselves, and to ask in relation to 
every work of life what Christianity means, and what 
Jesus of Nazareth would have us say, or think, or do. 

Now the former of these is the more common, and, 
although it is sometimes complained of, I believe it to 
be the more excellent way of preaching. 

To-day I propose to speak of our daily individual 
business; and I have chosen two different texts, 
because in them we can see contrasted the teaching 
on this subject, first, of that philosophy which for the 
moment, at least, is confined to this life, and, next, of 
the gospel of Him who holds the keys both of this 
world and the next. 

In the passage from Ecclesiastes,—that wonderful 
book, which depicts to us the tragic history of a soul 
groping at least half in darkness away from the light 
of God,—the writer, in the context, speaks as one who 
knows only the present world and the present life ; 


33i 


to whom all beyond the grave is dark and blank and 
lifeless ; to whom the business of every day is simply 
“ what our hands find to do.” He asks not how—by 
chance, or choice, or over-ruling power,—and accord¬ 
ingly all that he can say is in the spirit of that homely 
proverb, “ Whatever is worth doing at all, is worth 
doing well.” “ Whatever thine hand findeth to do, do 
it with thy might.” And the very reason that he 
gives is a sort of a double-edged maxim. If this 
short life is all we know or can be sure of, it may, 
indeed, be argued, as in the text, that we ought to 
make the most of it; to throw all our energies into it, 
content if our work remain when we have passed 
away. But it may also by ignobler spirits be urged 
that a life so short and so precarious is not worth 
much consideration ; that we had better take it as 
easily as we can, to eat and drink, for to-morrow we 
die. All irreligious philosophies of the past or present 
draw one or other of these two inferences, and each 
has a plausible reason to give for itself, in those dis¬ 
cussions concerning the two voices in the soul, of 
which modern thought is so full; but happily the 
deep, practical instinct of common sense and right 
feeling will always endeavor at least to grasp the 
nobler alternative which is suggested in the text. 

Still, brethren, it is at best rather a dreary outlook. 
If we look upon our business in life as simply that 
which we somehow find to do, which serves only to 
enable us to live from hand to mouth in the needs of 
this present life, or to pass away without tedium the 
time that we have to live here, or at best to be some- 


332 


how worked into the confused and perplexed history 
of humanity, then is sure to recur the question which 
rings so sorrowfully through the pages of the book of 
Ecclesiastes, “ What is the good of our business after 
all ? ” “ What is the fruit of man’s labor that he 
taketh under the sun ? ” And you know the sad 
conclusion which the writer was too often tempted to 
draw : 

“ Vanity of vanities, all is vanity and vexation of 
spirit. I praise [that is, I consider happy] the dead 
more than the living, aye, better than both of them, 
Him who hath not yet been.” 

There is a well-known story of an old saint (St. 
Philip Neri). 

A young man, in the ardor of strength and hope, 
was mapping out his life in anticipation, by progres¬ 
sing from success to success ; and the saint interposed 
at every point with, “ What then ? ” until at last the 
young man came to see that if life is viewed apart 
from any thought of God, and is bounded by the dark¬ 
ness of death, there is, after all, nothing which is very 
much worth looking for ; nothing that is worth while 
to do with all the might and energy of nature. 

And if we, my friends, make use of the priceless 
blessing of our sacred day of rest, which withdraws us 
for awhile from all the forms of worldly business, 
which must begin to-morrow, if, I say, we would look 
quietly and seriously on the business which our hands 
find to do, and ask ourselves what it shall profit, and 
what we shall think of it when we come to die, I 
fancy that we shall see that unless we have some 


333 


higher and better light than is bounded by the horizon 
of this world it will be very hard, indeed, to do it 
with all our might, and to justify this energy to our 
more thoughtful selves. 

I turn very gladly to the other text, which contains 
the doctrine of the gospel of Christ as to the business 
of every day ; and it is to be particularly remarked 
that in its original application, it refers to the life of 
the slave, the unnatural and degraded life which, of 
all others, might seem utterly hopeless and utterly 
purposeless ; and even to that life of freedom which is 
the blessing and the responsibility of us all, it says 
plainly, “ Whatsoever ye do, do it heartily as unto the 
Lord, and not unto men ; ” for, St. Paul continues, 

“ Ye serve the Lord Christ, and ye know that from 
Him ye shall receive reward.” How infinite is the 
difference between the cheerful and hopeful spirit of 
the gospel and the sad earnestness of the book of 
Ecclesiastes: 

You will observe, first of all, that here the business ' 
of life is not regarded as that which our hands find to 
do by chance or by choice ; it is that by which we 
serve the Lord, that which He has set us to do, and 
for which He will give us the prize. St. Paul always 
speaks of men as being fellow-workers with God in 
carrying out that eternal law which He has been 
pleased to ordain in respect to His creatures ; and 
every man’s daily business is that to which God has 
called him. Each in such relation finds his place and 
his function. 

There is the work, for example, of what we call the 


334 


working classes, the mass of men engaged in the 
cultivation of the earth, or the traversing of the great 
highways of commercial enterprise to bring back the 
products of other climes, or the manufacture, in various 
ways, of the material thus gathered. Then, again, 
there is the work of the trader and the work of the 
capitalist exchanging or distributing the products of 
labor, aiding manual work by machinery, or organiz¬ 
ing it by the use of capital. Then there is the work 
of the professions, whether in the discovery of truth, 
or in the elaboration of law, or the practice of art, or 
the healing duty of medicine, or the enlightening 
work of literature. There is also the distinctive work 
of the ministry of Christ in all its branches, preaching 
God’s word and dispensing His grace; but every one 
of these is a subordinate function under God’s provi¬ 
dence, working out the appointed destiny of the world. 
Each is very little in itself, and yet each is great, and 
has, if we look at it rightly, a dignity, and value, and 
sacredness, so far as it is wrought into the fabric of 
the great work of God. There is no such thing as 
chance; it is a word of ignorance, So, also, there is 
no such thing as absolute and unlimited choice. All 
of us, whether we know it or not, and, in some sense, 
whether we choose it or not, serve the Lord, and from 
Him we receive our reward. 

There is a special significance in this looking to the 
Lord as our Lord Jesus Christ. Not only are we 
quite sure of that which otherwise we could only 
believe and hope, that in the daily business of life we 
are working together with God, but we actually know 


that we are taking part with Christ in the great dis¬ 
pensation of God’s goodness to our fallen and unre¬ 
deemed humanity. Whatever we do or leave undone 
in daily duty, as well as in charity, is done or left 
undone to Him. 

There is a quaint old legend of a saintly lady of old, 
who, when she was busy in copying out the Word of 
God as a religious work, chafed in uneasiness because 
she was called away to some homely work of duty ; 
but when she returned she found that her sacred work 
had been completed in even greater perfection by an 
angelic hand, and so learned that a secular duty helped 
instead of hindering religious duties ; for in both, if 
done heartily, we serve the same Lord Jesus Christ, 
and take part in one blessed work for the glory of God. 
So it is in our life as a whole, and so it is, therefore, 
with a special occupation or business to which so 
much of life is given. For almost all of us here it is, 
I suppose, a necessity that we should gain bread for 
ourselves, and for those who depend upon us, and to 
the return of our labor, whether competence or wealth, 
we have a perfect right. Our Lord expressly says, 
“ The laborer is worthy of his hire.” But while our 
work is thus a means of livelihood, it is something 
infinitely more ; it is a part, whether large or small, of 
the great system of human welfare or civilization in 
which we serve the Lord. There is surely a peculiar 
instructiveness and beauty in the fact that so many 
years of our Lord’s earthly life were spent in humble 
preparation for His higher ministry. He was pleased 
Himself to have an occupation or business, and, we 


336 


must suppose, to help win by it the bread of the 
carpenter’s house at Nazareth. It is difficult to under¬ 
stand what could more perfectly show forth to us the 
dignity of that work, which, just because it is not sloth¬ 
ful in business, is able to serve the Lord ; or, more 
plainly, show the fallacy of that not unnatural idea 
which lies at the root of the ascetic life, that to be 
removed from all secular occupations and all secular 
life is the only thorough way of serving the Lord in 
spirit. No, brethren, Christianity does not forbid, 
does not discourage, any honest business of life: but 
what it must do, if it be real, is this : it must give to 
our daily occupations greater purity, greater energy, 
greater peace, and greater harmony with the growth 
of our true humanity as a whole. I say, my brethren, 
“greater purity,” for if in our business we are fellow- 
workers with Christ, it is a kind of sacrilege, so to 
speak, to associate with that business anything which 
is false or dishonest or corrupting to the souls of men. 
Christianity, for instance, has a very determined 
message to the buyers and sellers of this life, in that 
it pleads with authority for perfect truth and for 
unswerving honesty against all that flimsy and preten¬ 
tious work, all that adulteration, which disgraces our 
trade, all the tricks of trade itself, and the license of 
unbridled speculation,—those things which day by 
day are tempting and corrupting individual souls, and 
are, by the confession of every thoughtful man, eating 
out the very heart of our American civilization. These 
things are an absolute stench in the nostrils of any 
human life , whether it be with God or not; but if our 


337 


daily business, in trade, or handicraft, or profession, 
be a serving of Christ, how utterly hateful, how utterly 
disgraceful and unholy, these things must be. How 
can the Lord, who hates robbery for burnt offerings, 
recognize as His and reward as His servant the man 
who, calling himself by the name of Christian, and 
professing to serve Christ, goes out in that business 
to lie, to cheat, or to defraud ? How, I would ask 
even more earnestly, can He tolerate one who calls 
himself a Christian, who perhaps on Sunday, and in 
church, gets some touch at least of Christian spirit, 
and who for his daily bread, or his daily luxury, carries 
on a work, which in itself tends to corrupt his fellow- 
men ; to tempt them to drunkenness, or sensuality ; to 
beguile them with false ideas of morality, and to 
make them look at a good life as a mere sham, or a 
theme for cynical laughter. If it is true that in our 
daily business we serve Christ, surely, at whatever 
labor or whatever sacrifice, we shall, at least try to 
keep that business pure and wholesome, and in its 
conduct honest and true. 

But I would add that from the same thought we 
should get greater energy in our work. In all work 
that is worth anything, from the lowest to the highest, 
from sweeping the room to studying a lesson, there 
must be what has been called “the instinct of perfec¬ 
tion,” of desire to do our best; not merely what will 
pay, what will satisfy imperfect human judgment, what 
will pass muster, and look for a time what it is not. 
If there be no pride in good work as such there can 
be no good labor in the field, no good workmanship 
29 


33^ 


and no good manufacture, and as for the higher profes¬ 
sions they cannot for a moment deserve their name. 

And yet what is to sustain the “ instinct of perfec¬ 
tion ” in all the dull wear and tear of common life, in 
the fierce temptations of competition and the law of 
public opinion ? I know nothing which can even bear 
comparison with the thought that we serve the law of 
Christ, and that we look to His praise and not to the 
praise of men. The “Well-done, good and faithful 
servant ” waits on all honest work done for His sake. 

It was said, and said truly, that noble buildings were 
raised in days gone by because men raising them as 
religious work understood that high Heaven despised 

“ The mercenary lore 
Of nicely calculated less or more.” 

And so I believe it is in all daily business. If you 
have not that concentrated energy which absolutely 
thirsts for perfection you will find it in the belief that 
in it you can serve the Lord Jesus Christ. And yet, 
united with this greater energy there should be also 
greater peace because greater contentment with the 
work to which God has called us. Nothing can be 
more utterly absurd than to disparage contentment as 
though it kept men from progress. No. Wherever 
a man is capable of higher and better things than the 
work which for a time has been given him, then by 
that very capacity God calls him to advance, and 
advance he certainly will. After all, there must be 
common-place work in the world, and there must be 
common-place persons to do it. We cannot all be 
originators and leaders, the mass of us are only fit to 


339 


follow and to obey. Where is there anything more 
pitiable than the ill-grounded ambition which, knowing 
what it can do, will stretch out to what is wholly 
beyond its power. 

In the courts of earthly kings, by a custom which 
lingers to our own day, the haughtiest nobles have 
been proud to do menial service, if to the king; and if 
our work seems dull and prosaic and low, what matters 
it if it be a service to the King of kings. 

But, lastly, while Christianity thus breathes into our 
daily business greater piwity , greater energy , and 
greater peace , yet it resolutely keeps down that 
business to its proper place, as being one way, and 
only one way, of working together for God. 

Christianity teaches us this : that no man has a 
right, in pursuing his own business, to be careless of 
its effect upon public good, upon public life, and upon 
public morality; but to-day I would confine our 
thoughts for a moment to ourselves. ’ Christianity 
teaches us that we are not mere machines nor drudges 
in this life, but that we are men destined for immor¬ 
tality. The one true purpose of life, so far as it con¬ 
cerns ourselves, is to cultivate our true humanity by 
growing up into the image of the Lord Jesus Christ ; 
and, therefore, while it bids us work, and work hard, 
in our daily business, it bids us also look far beyond 
it to all that can enlighten, to all that can exalt, and 
to all that can purify. It bids us seek our knowledge 
for its own sake, not what will subserve our daily 
business, but whatever is good and true. It will not 
let us sacrifice to the drudgery of work even the whole- 


340 


some relaxation and amusement by which we alone 
can keep up the elasticity of life. It teaches us to 
study and love all that is beautiful in nature and art, 
and that all the more if our daily work be somewhat 
narrow and dull. It stirs us to hold the moral life of 
beauty, and more especially that which makes the 
sacredness of a house infinitely more precious than 
the most deserving claims of what the world calls 
business. And the sanctity of this holy day—God 
grant that on no pretence its sanctity be impaired,— 
teaches us to cease from the works of business for the 
cultivation of the spiritual life, the life of true com¬ 
munion with God in the Lord Jesus Christ. 

My brethren, what infinite exaltation and purifica¬ 
tion there is in the simplest prayers, night and morn¬ 
ing at the bedside, or family worship, which raise our 
souls above the world to the very throne of God! 

And what enlargement can be comparable' to that 
which breathes in the services of the sanctuary, which 
here, day by day, are offered for those who come to 
them ; and how many more might come if only they 
would ! By these things Christianity will so cultivate 
the spiritual life that even in daily work its music 
may linger in the heart, and interpenetrate the life, 
and so prepare the soul, whether by work or worship, 
for that eternal rest in heaven, which is nothing more 
or less than a perfect communion with God. 

My brethren, this and much more Christianity 
teaches us of the business of life. 

Surely it is well for us all to take this truth home 
and ponder it for ourselves. I would urge you, before 


34i 


this holy day shall pass away, to ponder these things 
in your soul, and when to-morrow brings you back to 
the hard, daily round of work, you may find in it 
more and more the means of serving the Lord. 

Never were truer words written than those of that 
hymn,—so well known that they have been almost 
hackneyed— 

“ The daily round, the common task, 

Will furnish all we need to ask; 

Room to deny ourselves, the road 
That brings us daily nearer God.” 

I wish that all those who know these lines by heart, 
and who, perhaps, linger fondly on the simple music 
of their thought and word, would each seriously con¬ 
sider how far his daily business makes any pretence 
of carrying out this in practice ; how far he can dare 
to say boldly, and yet humbly, “ I am serving the 
Lord, and not man. I am following the Lord, and 
none else. Whether I am judged or scorned by man 
is to me a very small matter; whether I prosper or 
fail to prosper, as the world deems prosperity, is a 
smaller matter still. To my Master I stand or fall. 
Nay, I know that I shall be holden up, for God is able 
to make me stand.” So we shall be able to say when 
we come to die ; and so let us strive that we may say 
this honestly as long as God may listen to us. May 
God grant us the power to do this ! May it come to 
us all through the grace and mediation of our Lord 
Jesus Christ. 

Nov. 25, 1882. 

29* 




























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SERMON XXI. 

“THE UPLIFTED ONE.” 

Text, John 3, 14, 15. 

u As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so 
must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whosoever believeth on 
Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” 


XXL 


In this simple declaration our Lord sets forth the 
scheme of salvation and eternal life. 

Into a brief half-hour, we are to compress the 
consideration of that work which was planned in 
eternity, and ripened by the growth of centuries. It 
is an ancient story,—familiar to you as a thrice-told 
tale. It has been proclaimed to many thousands of 
perishing creatures, and although it speaks only of 
love without mixture, of mercy without solicitation, 
and of salvation without price, it has been rejected to 
the condemnation of very many whom it was designed 
to save. 

This doctrine of Christ and His cross always 
testifies for God, and contrary to the sinner; so that 
at the judgment day, it will be a swift witness against 
the impenitent and the incorrigible. I have so often 
plied the arguments of this great doctrine ; I have 
stood upon this corner-stone of all-saving truth so 
long in your presence ; I have lifted up so unweariedly 
this cross, all consecrated with hallowed blood, that I 
am not without a misgiving lest some should turn 
their ears away in disrelish of this familiar teaching. 
Nevertheless, because it is heaven’s mighty imple¬ 
ment of truth, we are nerved to our work, week by 
week. For it may be that even this half-hour may 
date the immortal bliss of some soul now without 
hope. 


345 


The words of the text were originally spoken to 
Nicodemus, the Jewish ruler, when he came to Jesus, 
and they held their memorable evening’s conversation 
on the subject of the new birth of the soul. It was 
a strange doctrine to the Jew, and he demanded, 
‘‘ How can these things be ? ” The Saviour explained 
the matter, pointed out the method of regeneration, 
and preached to him the cross ; the doctrine that was 
afterward like a fire-brand thrown into the midst of 
the Jewish church. He exhibited Himself as the 
atoning sacrifice for human guilt, declaring that, 
“As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, 
even so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that who¬ 
soever believeth in Him should not perish, but have 
everlasting life.” 

The text contains an allusion to a historical event, 
recorded in the book of Numbers ; and since that 
event of the Old Testament is cited to explain the 
doctrine of the New, we will advert to it. 

“And the Lord sent fiery serpents among the 
people, and they bit the people; and much people of 
Israel died. 

“ Therefore, the people came to Moses, and said, 

‘ We have sinned, for we have spoken against the 
Lord, and against thee ; pray unto the Lord, that He 
take away the serpents from us.’ And Moses prayed 
for the people. And the Lord said unto Moses, ‘ Make 
thee a fiery serpent, and set it upon a pole: and it 
shall come to pass, that every one that is bitten, when 
he looketh upon it, shall live.’” (Numbers r, 6-8.) 

There is a difference of opinion whether this trans- 


34-6 


action was arranged by Jehovah to be typical of the 
gospel or not; and whether or not the minds of those 
punished Israelites beheld in the brazen serpent an 
emblem of the Saviour lifted up upon the cross. 
But it is a question we need not consider. Whether 
that transaction was designed to prefigure salvation 
by Christ, or the resemblance was afterward dis¬ 
covered, it is at least true that there is a resemblance. 
The Saviour Himself has drawn the parallel. He has 
compared Himself to the brazen serpent, and has 
made it sure that the salvation of sinners must be 
effected in a manner analogous to the healing of the 
bitten Israelites. I know not how there can be any 
dispute here. I know not how the abettors of any 
peculiar systems of doctrine, who will believe the 
simple words of Christ, can deny that what the monu¬ 
mental serpent was to that ruined camp, such is 
Christ to the vast, wretched host of transgressors. 

I shall attempt to show, in this discourse, how 
closely the parallel runs, and although, in our allotted 
space, I cannot enforce the several topics by all the 
evidence that crowds about the subject, yet I shall 
endeavor to leave you impressed with three truths, all 
of them implied in the text, all of them scriptural, and 
all of them highly important to your choicest and 
everlasting interest. 

The first of these is the picture of human sinful¬ 
ness as it is illustrated in the condition of these 
distressed and dying Israelites. If the atonement of 
the cross is effectual to the sinner in the same manner 
that the brazen serpent was to those sick and dying 


347 


men, then we may infer that a sinner’s condition with¬ 
out an atonement is much like theirs without the 
divinely appointed cure. 

And what think ye, my friends, was their con¬ 
dition ? We might make large drafts upon our 
imagination, and yet not frame to our minds an 
adequate conception of its horrors. But you must 
remember they were encamped in the wilderness, 
and their camp was invaded and beset by venomous 
reptiles. And this was in consequence of their rebel¬ 
lion against God. They had no defence nor protec¬ 
tion. The serpent might spring upon them from his 
coil as they walked near his thicket. He might crawl 
beneath the folds of their tents, while they were lying 
in slumber, and plant his fangs in their flesh ; and as 
the wound and the smart awoke them, their enemy 
had glided away, and while they could not kill him, 
they retained his venom. The system became sur¬ 
charged and swollen with the elements of death. It 
it a hideous conception of human suffering, but you 
know how quickly and terribly the bite of a venomous 
serpent causes a man to stagger, blind and bloated, 
into his grave. 

We are startled when Jesus Christ intimates that 
sinners are so poisoned by the moral venom of the 
arch-serpent, and arch-adversary of mankind. But let 
not the qualms of sensibility or an injured self-com¬ 
placency forbid us to gaze directly at the living truth. 
Let us master our courage to encounter this vision, 
and when the danger is discovered, we shall long to 
hear of the remedy, if a remedy may be declared. 


348 


The truth of the Saviour’s analogy then, obliges us 
to believe that men have been sorely bitten. They 
would rebel against God, and so God left them to the 
invasion of their enemy. That enemy assaults you in 
your public walk—rushing at you unawares when you 
think not of him, and so, by some overpowering lust, 
he destroys you; or else he glides out into your path, 
bites your heel, and makes you stumble and fall into 
some secret sin. And he creeps into your habitation, 
and there he destroys you by too much delight in 
other than God. Yes, and the Christian knows right 
well that even in the sacred privacy of his closet, 
when he thinks himself alone with God, there, at his 
very side, is the serpent coiled, to fascinate him with 
spiritual pride and worldly desires, or wound him with 
blasphemous thoughts. You know the scriptures well 
enough to know I do not speak extravagantly, when 
I say that sin is the moral poison with which the 
human race is infected; and you are sufficiently well. 
acquainted with the facts of human experience and 
history to know that the testimony of the scriptures 
on that point is true. 

Indeed, if ye will be content with God’s solemn 
declaration, we may say, “The whole head is sick and 
the whole heart is faint; and from the crown of the 
head to the sole of the foot there is no soundness in 
man’s moral constitution.” 

This teaching, so mournful, of the Holy Ghost, has 
been echoed too, very mournfully, by the experience 
of men like us, and yet, perchance, better men than 
any of us. The long-drawn sound of Christian con- 


349 


viction has reached us from afar, even from the first 
ages of the church, and has put words into our mouths 
to use whenever we draw near to God : and as you 
and I bow down here together and speak to our 
Father in heaven, and confess that there is no health 
in us, what do we say but that we are diseased and 
poisoned by sin ? We may not love to acknowledge 
it, when it is so distinctly stated, but we sometimes 
give an unconscious evidence that we believe it never¬ 
theless. For we make laws against the outworkings 
of human corruption : we have bonds and sureties, and 
notes of hand, and bolts and bars, and prison-houses, 
and sheriffs, and men of war. Why is all this, if it be 
not because you cannot trust every man ? Why , if 
you do not believe in the univei'sality of sin, and the 
“exceeding sinfulness” of sin? 

Nay, those who lay no claims to a Christian belief, 
have acknowledged it. Even the sagacious infidel, as 
he deems himself, who would fain sweep away this 
everlasting record of God’s truth, the Bible, because 
he thinks it light as a cobweb, a tissue of absurdities, 
the chief absurdity-of which is the doctrine of man’s 
sinfulness, even he has fairly recognized the truth 
which lies at the threshold of salvation by Christ. 

Infidelity’s most philosophic champion (Jeremy 
Bentham), in almost precise phrase, declares that 
mankind are prone to every kind of vice; and, for that 
reason, he constructed a system of ethics in order to 
disenthrall the world of its incumbent iniquity. And 
when he declared that men are wicked in grain, he 
wrote by the light of history. For I might safely 
30 


350 


challenge any man to show the spot on the shaded 
surface of human story which is a spot of pure bright¬ 
ness except in the mansions of Jesus Christ, the 
Divine Man. If, instead of the testimony of men, a 
better knowledge is sought; let a man remove that 
tissue of gentle manners which hides him from the 
world, and the self-complacency that veils him from 
himself, and just suffer a stream of light that beams 
from Jehovah’s great law to irradiate his conscience ; 
would he lift up his head from that inward survey, and 
say the serpent had not poisoned him ? Nay, would 
he not sing another strain, crying, “ I am shapen in 
iniquity”? Would he not, as he looked up to a Holy 
God, say, as a man who was thought righteous in his 
day, said, “I have heard of Thee by the hearing of 
the ear, but now mine eye seeth Thee, wherefore I 
abhor myself and repent in dust and ashes ?” And, 
as he felt the pulsations of that poisoned life flowing 
along the courses of his being, would he not cry out, 
“ What shall I do to be saved?” “ Is there a balm in 
Gilead,—a physician there?” Yes, and with what 
assurance of hope comes the response, “As Moses 
lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must 
the Son of Man be lifted up, that whosoever believeth 
in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” 

And this brings us to the second of the three topics 
we were to examine here, and, having surveyed the 
condition of sinful men, let us examine the remedy 
by which a cure is proposed. 

The remedy of the serpent’s bite, you remember, 
was a serpent. That which had poisoned the Israel- 

/ 


35i 


ites was the same which conveyed the cure, and so 
with the power of sin, “as by man came death, by 
man came also the resurrection from the dead.” 

Now, we do not know why Jehovah chose to cure a 
serpent’s bite by means of another serpent. We can¬ 
not tell what special fitness there was in making the 
destroyer defeat himself. For aught that we can see, 
it had been quite as easy and quite as beautiful, if 
God had silently sent into those sick bodies a new 
stock of the principle of life, and so helped the restora¬ 
tive power of nature to throw off the poison. The 
labor and pains of preparing the similitude of a 
serpent might have been spared, and the pomp of 
this public display might have been omitted as well, 
perhaps. Yet God deemed otherwise. It seemed 
good to the councils of heaven to determine that the 
cure should proceed in this manner, and in no other, 
so that if any self-sufficient Israelite, who was insensi¬ 
ble to his danger, had ventured to demur at such a 
method of cure, he had lost his life as surely as if God 
had shut up His ear against the pleadings of the 
people, and refused them all relief. It is in the same 
way that people sometimes think and speak of Jesus 
Christ and His salvation. 

But there is another peculiarity in the case which 
comes before us while we are considering this remedy 
for the serpent’s bite, and belongs equally to the 
redemption by Christ. 

There was nothing in the substance from which 
that serpent was shaped, that had the power of heal¬ 
ing. Even though it had not a venomous nature, we 


352 


can all perceive there was nothing in the serpent’s 
dead form which could cure a living serpent’s bite. 
And yet there flowed out of it such healthful influ¬ 
ences that the man who believed God’s word, and 
looked upward to that lifted piece of brass, found him¬ 
self restored and well. 

The explanation of the matter is, God sent down a 
divine quality to charge and fill that fifeless effigy of 
brass, so that the serpent on the pole was to all that 
’people as if it were God ; and so God cured them by 
the serpent’s form. Now we see the same thing 
exemplified in Jesus Christ. It was not possible that 
man could atone for man. What inherent power is 
there in humanity to meet the perfect demands of the 
divine law, already violated ? There needed to be 
something superadded to humanity, and hence Deity 
became Himself incarnate ; and when we look with a 
true faith upon the Person who was crucified for sin, 
we behold not simply a man like common men, nor 
even a man whose nature was pure and innocent, and 
without venom, but upon a man in whose flesh was 
tabernacled all the living energy of God : and that 
energy flows out into the believer’s soul, and heals and 
saves him from his sins. Very great is this mystery 
of Godliness : “God manifested in the flesh, seen of 
angels, believed on in the world, received up into 
glory.” And will you let this mystery stagger you, 
so that you refuse to look to Him that is lifted up? 
He is lifted up before you to-day, as it were visibly 
crucified for you, and I desire to prevail with you by 
the virulence of that sin with which the soul is 


353 


poisoned, by the sorrows of that death which follows 
unforgiven sin; by all that is so delightful in the heal¬ 
ing of Christ’s blood, and by all that is free, gracious, 
and easy in the application of this remedy, I desire to 
prevail with you that you may be blest with this 
salvation. 

But our subject is not fully surveyed until I have 
spoken more of the ease with which the remedy is 
applied,—the topic just glanced at. 

And this is our third topic. The Israelites were 
cured by a look at the brazen serpent. “ It came to 
pass if a serpent had bitten any man, when he beheld 
the serpent of brass he lived,”—and just analogous to 
this is the sinner’s justification by faith in Jesus 
Christ. The prophet knew it, when, in the vision of 
the future Saviour, he cried, “ Look unto me, and be 
ye saved, all the ends of earth, for I am God, and 
there is none else.” And the Evangelist, when he 
said, “To as many as received Him, to them gave He 
power to become the sons of God, even them that 
believe on His name.” And faith is a cordial acqui¬ 
escence in God’s appointed way of salvation. It is 
the submission of the heart to Christ. It is the cast¬ 
ing one’s self down at His feet, as the only helper. 
Faith does not consist in the multitude of prayers, 
nor in the solemn determination to strive to grow 
better, nor in fervid desires to be a child of God, nor 
in the hatred of sin, nor in the strong crying and tears, 
nor in a broken heart, but with the spirit which each 
of these conditions indicates, it is the committal of the 
soul, with all its present and eternal interests, to the 
30* 


354 


one Redeemer, Jesus Christ. What could the Israel¬ 
ite do for his own restoration ? His alternative was 
to trust to the divine remedy, and suffer God to save 
him, or to die. And from the utmost limit of the 
Israelitish camp, whosoever turned upon the brazen 
serpent a single look of trust and hope was healed. 
No matter what the stage or degree of his sickness, 
he was healed. It was a mighty salvation. One 
single look and the cure was finished. The distended 
limbs shrink to the dimensions of health. The eye 
regains its lustre. The maddened brain is cooled 
into quiet. A new life darts through the frame, and 
the restored man rushes to his feet, and hies eagerly 
to bring some dying friend within view of this con¬ 
veyancer of life ; the mother’s instinct is strong again, 
and she snatches up her off-cast babe, and flies to 
hold it up before the brazen serpent of salvation. 

Dear friends : Why may not this scene of rescue 
and rejoicing be re-enacted in this house of God 
to-day? Can you doubt that you have been pierced 
and sickened by the tooth of sin ? If not, then the 
value and power of the remedy you can not doubt. 

The manner of its application need not startle you. 
Thousands have made trial of it and are healed ; and 
they are now rejoicing in their souls’ restored health, 
and a conscience at peace with God. They would 
gladly bear you in their arms to the cross, that you 
might look upon the Saviour and live. It is His own 
truth, and the substance of divine revelation: “He 
that believeth shall be saved, and he that believeth 
not is condemned already.” 


355 


If I should preach to you the word for years, I can 
tell you of no new doctrine of life, no other cure for 
sin. If I should spend all my days with you, minister¬ 
ing to your souls, and follow you, one by one, to the 
chambers where the shadows gather around you, and 
stand over you as you breathed out your life; or if I 
should be called to go before you into eternity, and 
should give to my beloved flock a pastor’s dying 
testimony, I could tell you only of that by which I 
hope to be saved,—the merits of a crucified Redeemer. 
I could only lift up my voice, and say to you, “ As 
Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so 
must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whosoever 
believeth in Him might not perish, but have ever¬ 
lasting life.” 

And so would I lift up my voice to-day, and with a 
more than usual impression of eternity on my mind, 
I would speak to dying men, and offer to you, in God’s 
name, a free and instantaneous mercy and forgiveness. 
How can ye escape, dear friends, if ye neglect so 
great salvation ? 

Dec. 14, 1878. 








ADDRESS TO THE PEOPLE 


DELIVERED AT THE 

%nstMutian 

OF 

Rev. Lyman H. Blake 


AS PASTOR OF THE 

Second Congregational Church, 


WESTFIELD, MASS., 


December 6, 1881. 


Dear Brethren and Friends: 

The Great Head of the Church has this day 
bestowed upon you a gift of special value and signifi¬ 
cance. A chosen and anointed messenger of His 
gospel has been designated by Him to assume the 
responsibilities and the functions of an under shep¬ 
herd,—an overseer for this flock has been appointed 
by the Holy Ghost! 

Because of this fact, in the consummation of which 
you are to be congratulated by all these churches that 
are here to-day to illustrate the fellowship of the 
Christian faith in this region, I am intrusted with the 
duty of saying some things to you that may make 
this newly-formed relation one that shall be promotive 
of the interests of the Redeemer’s kingdom, and there¬ 
fore mutually profitable to pastor and people. 

I hardly think it will be necessary for me to dwell 
at length upon certain outward and material aspects 
of this relation, with a view to emphasize certain 
claims which I doubt not you will be very prompt to 
recognize and meet. I will only say that your pastor 
has undertaken the responsibility of ministering to 
you in spiritual things ; and you have assumed to 
minister to him in carnal things. Do this faithfully 
and cheerfully. It is not a charity. It is a voluntarily 
assumed obligation on your part. Let it always be 
honored. It is for your interest that his support be 



359 

ample, and provided with liberal hand and willing 
heart. 

Passing now to those aspects of this pastoral relation 
which have to do with divine realities, I desire to 
enjoin upon you that you settle at once the question for 
what purpose this divine gift has been bestowed upon 
you, and then that you fail not from this day forward 
to guard it sacred to the purpose for which it has been 
given. See to it that you open your hearts to give 
access to the truth that he shall preach; and your 
homes to the ministry of divine love and comfort that 
he shall bring to them, and your whole lives to that 
watchful care for souls which as a faithful minister of 
the grace of God he shall be impelled to exercise. 
If in your own thoughts and affections,—if in your 
families,—if among your neighbors,—if in all your 
intercourse with your fellow-members of this Christian 
assembly, as well as among them that are without, you 
exalt and honor the pastoral office, and the pastoral 
work, you will not only encourage fidelity on the part 
of him who to-day becomes the incumbent of that 
office, but you will thereby secure the first and most 
important conditions of his success. 

You will naturally look to your pastor as he begins 
his labors among you, to ascertain if he shall prove 
himself wise in “ rightly dividing the word,” and strong 
to declare the message of life with that power that 
shall cause it to reach many hearts. At this point I 
wish to speak with clearness and emphasis, because I 
believe it to be the vital point in the ministry of any 
ambassador of Christ to fallen men. Without depreciat- 


ing in any measure the importance of the intellectual 
and spiritual furnishment of the preacher of the truth 
of God, I desire to say that the efficacy of the 
preached word,—the power of the pulpit of any 
church—will be essentially what the spiritual life of 
that church shall make it. This fact appears in the 
practical workings of a pastor’s life. As from week 
to week he comes in contact with his people, his mind 
and heart are shaped by the touch. A conversation 
in a sick chamber, a word heard, or uttered by the 
wayside, has generated thoughts and feelings that find 
their form and birth in the ministrations of the coming 
Sabbaths. They live and are the pioneers of many 
succeeding days of retired study. The church sur¬ 
rounds her ministry with a vital atmosphere which 
they breathe, which is always giving them life, or 
making them ghastly, as it is pure or loaded with 
pestilential vapors. The preacher may set the mind 
of the church in motion upon the river of thought, but 
it sweeps onward and bears him with it. The con¬ 
trolling influence of the church upon the mind of her 
ministry will be seen either in the truths which he 
exhibits, or in the mode of their presentation. This 
is inevitable And we may say that the spiritual 
provision, or that which is intended so to be, which is 
brought to the sanctuary, will be very much such as 
shall meet the wants of the church as made known by 
herself. See to it, then, dear brethren, that with a 
clear recognition of this fact and of the responsibility 
involved in it, you so surround your pastor with an 
atmosphere of healthful spiritual life,—such an atmos- 


36i 


phere of love and of prayer, that he shall feel that 
nowhere on earth can he enjoy such near communings 
with the Eternal Father, and Author of all truth, and 
with the blessed Son of God, the Redeemer of man¬ 
kind, as when he finds himself in closest contact with 
the hearts of this people, and reposed on their helpful 
love, and is upborne on the wings of their faith and 
prayers. 

But I must pass to another topic that demands 
consideration in this review. I refer to that which is 
directly involved in the pastoral relation. And I 
wish to point out to you how greatly the influence of 
that relation for good or evil depends upon the church. 

I shall at once draw a sharp line of distinction 
here between what passes under the name of pastoral 
visitation, and the care of souls , which latter term 
comprehends not only the essence , but all that is vital 
and of importance, either in principle or in detail, of 
the pastoral relation. The minister of Jesus Christ 
has a two-fold office,—as a preacher of the Word , he is 
ta proclaim the gospel message to all who will listen 
to it,—as a pastor or shepherd } he has the care of 
immortal souls. 

Now a man may, with herculean efforts, perform an 
amount of what, in this age, is misnamed pastoral 
visitation, without accomplishing the smallest result 
in the proper culture and care of the souls that have 
been committed to his charge. It follows, then, that 
if this work of pastoral visitation is to be made a help¬ 
ful and profitable part of your pastor’s labors in this 
field, you must see to it, not only that you give him 
3 1 


362 


cordial welcome to your houses, but that you expect 
him, and aid him, to make his going among you from 
house to house a means of spiritual stimulus to him¬ 
self, and an opportunity for such efforts as will 
reinforce and make more practical the preaching of 
the word on the Sabbath. 

I am led from this point to a further remark upon 
this matter I have referred to as “the care of souls.” 
I wish to speak of it as involving a mutual responsibility 
on the part of a church and its pastor. And what is 
it? It is the duty into which all other duties finally 
resolve themselves. In its first aspect, it is the 
bringing to bear upon the hearts and lives of individu¬ 
als the power of the gospel. Time would fail me to 
set forth all the requisites for the discharge of this 
duty, or to enter with any minuteness into the details 
of instruction, discipline, and consolation, those three 
chief necessities of a redeemed soul. 

I shall stop now only to say, that it is manifestly 
with the experimental side of religion, and the delicate, 
searching questions growing out of it, that the majority 
of our clergy are least qualified and therefore most 
reluctant, to deal. The fact that they are so very 
seriously impairs their efficiency as pastors, and their 
moral power as men. In looking about for the causes 
of this condition of things, can it be that I am wrong 
when I attribute it in a large degree to the lack of an 
adequate spiritual life, and a consequent lack of 
cooperative, helpful power in the church. “The 
things of the Spirit are spiritually discerned,” and if 
the Holy Ghost dwell not with large manifestation in 
the church,, the power of spiritual discernment is 


363 


inadequate to the requirements involved in the proper 
care of immortal souls. The ambassador of Christ 
may preach, catechise, minister the sacraments, visit 
the flock often, and be watchful to gather in the 
wanderers. All outside means of Christian nurture 
may be faithfully used ; and yet, if the discerning 
power of the Spirit of God be not poured out upon 
His messenger, he will lack the skill, or the disposi¬ 
tion, or the moral courage to enter the very chamber 
of the soul, and there wrestle with its adversaries. 
Then indeed will that ministry be an imperfect thing. 
It will halt in the region of its grandest power. It 
will be silent at a tribunal where it should plead and 
rebuke as with the authority of God. It will be 
paralyzed in the very function which would bring it 
nearest to the'souls it was ordained to guide. 

O pray, dear brethren, that this ministry institu¬ 
ted here over you to-day may be in the demonstration 
of the Spirit, and of power to heal and to save! I 
think I am not at fault when I say that the preaching 
of to-day does not adequately meet the exigencies of 
the times. While, by all fair observers, it is agreed 
that it is not lacking in many of the lighter sources of 
influence, such as sprightliness, culture, versatility, 
and occasional eloquence, yet it is also acknowledged 
that it does not speak with the authority, unction, 
and power to be expected from a gift so essentially 
divine,—that instead of ruling, it is ruled by the 
dominant tendencies of secular thoughts,—that it fails 
to echo the virtues and the inspirations of the word of 
God,—that it is neither great as an exhibition of 
Christian intellect, nor earnest as an organ of Chris- 


3^4 


tian spirituality,—that men smile when it thunders, 
and sleep when it persuades,—that it addresses more 
Felixes who yawn, than Felixes who tremble. What 
then is needed to redeem the exercise of this mighty 
gift from this pious weakness and decent mediocrity ? 
Brethren of this church, there is but one way back to 
the heights of power, and we must all—people and 
ministers,—each in his place,—travel back to it. 

Ye servants of King Immanuel, go tell these conse¬ 
crated ministers of the Word,—tell this anointed 
messenger of God who comes to you in the pastoral 
office to-day,—tell them, one and all, to look anew to 
their commission. With purged sight tell them to try 
to see in it the very handwriting of the Church’s 
Head, and the baptism of the Pentecostal fire; and 
tell them to lay hold upon the gift as it is rooted in 
the grace and sanction of the living God; tell them to 
use it as a thing fed by the Eternal Spirit, and as a 
constituted part of a supernatural order; tell them to 
grasp it in its spiritual aspects, and on the side lying 
next the unseen world. 

Brethren, I charge you in the name of God, and of 
His witnessing Spirit, that, on these high places of 
Zion, you see to it that these conditions of spiritual 
power here shall henceforth be such that when this 
brother in our ministry shall preach to you the 
crucified Jesus,—the blood-stained cross, and the love- 
bedewed garden of suffering,—he shall preach these 
truths with power , with that power which holds the 
hearts and consciences of men and brings them 
salvation. 

Dec . 5, 1881. 



ADDRESS 


gtnnorial j&rbios on $troration Jag, 


May 30, 1880, 


CHICOPEE, MASS. 


“OUR NATIONAL ENLARGEMENT.” 





Once more we are assembled for a service which 
has come to hold a large place in those sympathies 
and feelings which do the greatest honor to the 
citizens of a free Republic,-—a Republic whose free¬ 
dom has been purchased at the cost of a great multi¬ 
tude of human lives. 

Out of the treasured memories of our experience 
as a nation, we are called upon to press the new 
wine of a tender rejoicing over the rich blessings 
to our national life,—the fruitage of the consecrated 
lives and martyr deaths of our fallen heroes, and with 
it fill our cup, as we call upon the name of the Lord, 
in this service of embalming the deeds of patriotism 
and of valor which they have wrought. 

The meaning of this service is impressed upon us 
with increased power, as the passing years that serve 
to remove us from the excitements of the struggle in 
which their lives were surrendered, serve also to place 
in clearer light the momentous issues that were 
involved in that struggle. 

Standing where we are to-day, the song that we 
sang on the day of our passage through the Red sea 
that separated us from those whose hands were up¬ 
lifted in a mad effort for the destruction of the place 
and the nation we proudly called our own, is no less 
appropriate than then : “ Who is like unto Thee, O 
Lord, among the gods : who is like Thee, glorious in 





367 


holiness, fearful in praises, doing wonders ? Thou in 
Thy mercy hast led forth the people which Thou hast 
redeemed, Thou hast guided them with strength unto 
Thy holy habitation.” Not more impressive as a 
work of God, and an occasion of grateful recognition 
was that deliverance celebrated by this song three 
thousand years ago, than are the blessings of the God 
of Israel which we trace to-day. We climb again the 
watch-tower from which we looked in the years of 
peril and dismay and saw a continent in arms, the 
majesty of law defied, the interests of liberty imper¬ 
illed, the finger of derision pointed at the institu¬ 
tions of America, and the work of death and desola¬ 
tion raging far and wide ; but now, as we look, our 
eyes are greeted with a brighter scene. The yawning 
gulf of strife has long been closed,—the survivors of 
those hosts that met in conflict have long been found 
in the ways of industry, toiling to repair that former 
desolation, the tribes of our inheritance are standing 
in their lot under the banner of our fathers, the dark¬ 
ening clouds which rested on the earth and sky have 
parted and been driven away before the splendor of 
the day of peace. The help for which we waited 
with hearts of longing which almost broke beneath 
their burdens, came at length, and with smiling faces 
and with tranquil expectations for the future, we have 
gazed upon a nation saved, its institutions purified, 
and its ancestral glory shining on the world. 

As we engage again in the services of this memo¬ 
rial day, it is eminently fitting that we should consider 
some of the results that were accomplished through 


3 68 


the sacrifice of the lives of those whose memory we 
seek to-day to honor. And first of all that work of 
restoration which by their efforts was accomplished in 
our land, demands our grateful recognition. 

The day has come in which it maybe said, “The 
Lord hath bound up the breach of this people, and 
He hath healed the stroke of their wound.” In 
making such a declaration it is not of necessity 
implied that there is an absolute removal of all causes 
for solicitude and vigilance, or that we have yet 
attained the fullness of the promised blessing. Many 
things are lying yet in a penumbra which is neither 
like the old chaos of rebellion, nor like the shining- 
loyalty which under God’s blessing shall rejoice our 
hearts in the years to come. The breach has been 
bridged, but yet not arched and strengthened as it 
shall be when judgment has been fully laid to the 
line and righteousness to the plummet. The wound 
is indeed closed, but yet not firmly sealed with living 
tissues of a vigorous life, as it shall be when from the 
deep heart of the nation there flows out a common 
joy in our equitable institutions and our world-wide 
power. I venture the assertion that there is error in 
both extremes of judgment concerning the actual con¬ 
dition of affairs among us. Error in the opinion that 
the great work for which the nation toiled during 
those four bitter years, was all accomplished with the 
cessation of an armed resistance to the law; and 
error also in the opinion that our attitude and senti¬ 
ments should be the same towards those conquered 
States, as when they stood compact in arms and 
frowning defiance at the government. 



369 


Discriminating between these, I lay emphasis upon 
the fact that the great principles for which we strug¬ 
gled have been solidly established in the land, and 
that their universal recognition and the proper applica¬ 
tions of their power, ultimately, are as certain to be 
secured in every State and county of the Union, as 
any events can be which depend upon the free agency 
of man under the Providence of God. The period of 
conflict and division ceased with the enforced submis¬ 
sion of all who rose against law. We have for fifteen 
years past been living in the period of reconstruction, 
which has brought with it duties, less stern, but not 
less momentous, than those which in the former 
period we met with loyal hearts and an unwavering 
trust in God. A clear conception of these duties, 
and a determination to perform them in a spirit at 
once faithful to principle and fraternal in its feeling, 
should not, however, obscure to us the glorious fact 
that the crisis of our peril is long since passed by, 
and that the fires of our furnace of affliction were 
long ago quenched, and this day’s service of the 
tender ministries of recollection and gratitude is in 
honor of those whose strength was given to the nation 
in that supreme hour of its peril, and whose blood 
quenched the fires that burned in the furnace of our 
trial. 

Looking back from this security to the former peril , 
we can trace to-day the steady guidance of His hand, 
and the wondrous method of His wisdom through 
whom our deliverance was wrought. 

From the time of the first uprising of the people to 


370 


defend their institutions, unto the hour which wit¬ 
nessed the surrender of the last rebel army, the 
demonstration of a guiding hand, superior to all 
human power, has been decisive. From point to 
point we traced its interference. In the dark days 
that followed our reverses,—in the suspense of hope 
that we had power to reach our end,—in the pro¬ 
tracted conflict of opinion in the Loyal States,—in the 
heat and frenzy of political contention,—in all forms 
of peril, whether by secret craft or by open violence, 
the agency of God was discernible,—now infusing 
new ardor into the people’s heart,—now turning the 
tide of battle by some sudden interference, and now 
confusing the combinations of our enemies across the 
seas. So clear was the evidence of this, that even 
unbelief was constrained to confess a power superior 
to the arts of statesmen and the might of war; while 
simple faith bowed with grateful adoration before a 
present God, who “doeth according to His will among 
the armies of Heaven and the inhabitants of earth.” 

The details of this work of restoration for the 
accomplishment of which we delight to honor our 
fallen heroes to-day are to be found (a) in “the Union ” 
established and secured for future years ; ib) in the 
maintenance of the authority of law throughout the 
land; (c) in the overthrow of that foulest blot on our 
national life,—American slavery ; (d) in the great 
strengthening and enlargement of the foundations of 
virtue and religion among us. But the brevity of 
time that can fittingly be occupied in this survey, 
forbids any discussion beyond this mere statement of 
points in detail. 



37i 


It remains for us to contemplate another aspect of 
our theme, in which we shall consider the enlargement 
of our privilege and opportunity and greatness by those 
restoring mercies which under God we owe to the 
brave men (both living and dead), by whose unselfish 
sacrifice our place among the nations of the earth is 
secured to us to-day. 

The miracle of our reunion brings clearer light, 
augmented strength, enlarged responsibility, and power 
for good. It sets us in our proper place among the 
nations. It purifies our policy. It simplifies the 
problems of our government. It gives full scope to 
every generous impulse of patriotic hearts. It opens 
wide a door before us through which we may pass, 
out of the* dark galleries and the still painful memories 
of intestine strife, into that garden of delights where 
summer zephyrs blow, and blooming nature greets 
the fevered eye of man. If the strength of that 
former day was great, the strength to be developed 
now shall be still greater. If the renown of that was 
high, the fame of this shall be proclaimed in every 
land. 

What then, are the essential features of this national 
enlargement, and what are the principles that should 
control us as we stand in the opening years of this era 
of opportunity and privilege ? 

Briefly, I will attempt to answer. 

Passing by those aspects of our enlargement which 
depend on natural causes merely, such as the increase 
of wealth, and population, or the preponderating 
influence of our nation on this Western Continent, I 


372 


call your attention to those features of our opportunity 
which involve lasting moral obligations, and of these, 
notice— 

First. Those duties which are imposed upon us in 
relation to the rights of man. 

These involve the greatest and most practical 
question now before us as a nation. The destruction 
of slavery did not solve it. It only brought it directly 
before us. What is to be our future policy in dealing 
with the races which we call “inferior ?” What is to 
be the spirit of our laws of conduct towards humanity, 
without regard to any of the castes and grades and 
social distributions in which it is presented ? That is 
the question which God sets before us in this day of 
light, pointing, on the one hand, to his own revealed 
doctrine of the brotherhood of man, and on the other, 
to our own formal declaration that equality before the 
law is man’s prerogative. This test is put before us, 
as has been well said, “as a stone of stumbling, or a 
rock of exaltation.” Until this is settled aright, the 
work of justice is not finished. Until this is settled, 
God will hold us to our proud pretensions; will ask 
again, in tones like those which we have heard with 
terror, “Where is thy brother Abel ? ” 

I pause to beg that none will listen carelessly, for I 
have weighed well what I utter. The question of 
suffrage for the black man, or for the red man (or the 
foreigner), is one for the statesman solely, and not for 
the politician. Let him settle it impartially. No 
intelligent observer of our national life can doubt that 
it has been treated with quite little enough of wisdom 




373 


and common-sense thus far (even though Massachu¬ 
setts’ favored son dictated the policy). If it be settled 
at last on conditions of industry, intelligence, and 
character, none can justly raise a murmur. But the 
question of manhood in the black man, the red man, 
or the Mongolian, is one for the Christian. And the 
time has come when in this land, rescued for freedom 
by the sacrifice of so many lives whose memories we 
tenderly cherish in this day’s service, God’s immortal 
children of every race, hue, and grade,—Indians, or 
Africans, or Europeans, or Asiatics,—should be 
respected for their manhood’s sake; should be made 
equal before law, and guaranteed in every right which 
is essential to personal well-being here and hereafter. 
Let us remember, dear friends, that a nation’s great¬ 
ness is always measured by its treatment of the weak 
and helpless. Let us drink in the spirit of the Bible, 
and cherish in our hearts the royal law of love to man. 
Let us be content with no lower grade of justice for 
our ransomed country than that which offers to every 
son of Adam who breathes upon its soil, the highest 
culture and the largest freedom of which he is capable. 
And to this consummation we are tending surely, if 
not rapidly. To this consummation, the spirits of our 
martyred heroes are calling us as those whose privi¬ 
lege it is to enter into their labors. Shall we, through 
failure to comprehend the issue and its responsibilities, 
despoil them of their merited reward ? May God 
speed the day when this brightest light of the ages 
shall shine on all the nations, and be reflected in the 


3 2 


374 


organic law of every State, presenting the true privi¬ 
lege of life to every son of man. 

Second. But I may not overlook another class of 
duties which pertain as truly to this new day of light. 
I refer to the continued duties of fraternity and 
conciliation which are imposed upon us by Christian 
magnanimity. 

As vigor, sternness, and relentless purpose became 
the years of conflict, and were the qualities that were 
demanded of the patriots who fought and who fell in 
that direful conflict, so moderation, kindness, and 
fraternal feeling best befit the years of peace of an 
assured victory. I introduce this point in the con¬ 
sideration of the duties that devolve upon us as 
citizens of this Republic to-day for.a two-fold reason, 
(a) because I believe that we shall in no way so 
highly honor the memory of the men whose graves 
we adorn with flowers to-day, as by the constant 
cherishing of a spirit of Christian forbearance and 
good-will towards those with whom they contended in 
the field of mortal combat ; and (b) because it is 
needful for us frequently to study the various relations 
of this duty that we may the more surely guard our¬ 
selves against permitting its performance through 
carelessness or indifference, or worse still, a weak 
sentiment, to lapse into a sacrifice of all the essential 
principles and the important results for which they 
so grandly and freely offered their lives. The duty of 
fraternity can never be permitted to conflict with the 
duty of patriotism, and the man who seventeen years 
after the close of that fearful struggle for the life of a 


375 


great nation (or ever in its future), shall be willing to 
concede one iota of the principles of government, or 
of freedom, for which they fought, has no right to lift 
his voice in celebrating their deeds, or to desecrate 
with his unholy touch the flowers that deck their 
graves. It is the solemn duty of the nation still to 
guard securely all that has been won, while yet this 
shall be done with no needless austerity or harshness. 
But we dare not break our oath to freedom by smiling 
on the past crimes of the rebellion, or looking com¬ 
placently on while the same spirit vents its hatred on 
those whom it can no longer claim to own in body 
and soul. We dare not consent to the violation of 
the sanctity of Congress by the intrusion of men who 
have never repented of the sin of seeking to destroy 
the life of the nation under whose fostering care all 
the blessings that ever they knew were vouchsafed to 
them, and of the double sin of sacrificing the lives of 
your brothers and mine in the prosecution of their 
malignant purpose. And yet we shall still count it 
our duty to open wide the door of entrance to those 
who come with honest purpose to sustain the constitu¬ 
tion, and labor in promoting the prosperity of the 
united country. Conceding nothing to the old 
leaven of rebellion, and securing every needful guar¬ 
anty to justice, we shall yet be true to the fundamental 
principles of the Republic, and as prompt to bear the 
olive-branch, as were our brothers to send the shot 
and the steel. 

Seventeen years ago, I was led to write as follows, 
and I see no reason to question the correctness of the 
view then taken : 


376 


“ But what plea can be made by those Southern 
rebels that will stand the test for one moment ? Can 
they say that they have been oppressed in any way 
by the acts of the Federal government ? They have 
wielded the power of that government, almost uninter¬ 
ruptedly, for the last fifty years, and prostituted it 
most shamefully to their own aggrandizement. To 
what single act of the government can the leaders of 
this revolt point, and say of it that it was designed, or 
that it tended to deprive them of their just rights, or 
in any way to oppress them ? Not one ; not a shadow, 
even. The charge is absolutely and shamefully false! 
The history of this rebellion will one day be written 
candidly and faithfully. When this is done, posterity 
will read, to the utter shame of those who seek to 
extenuate, or in any way apologize for this dreadful 
wrong, that there was not the slightest shadozv of a 
just cause for complaint. 

It has been said,—it is still said,—that the North 
has wronged the South by a persistent agitation of the 
great doctrine of human freedom as related to the 
bondmen of the South. And what is the meaning of 
this charge? Has the North by any acts previous to 
the breaking out of this revolt, sought to interfere 
with the institutions of the South in any way that it 
was not her legitimate right to do ? She has not. 
The charge is forever false ! The extent of her sin¬ 
ning, if there be sin at all, is in words, not in deeds. 
And what have these been ? Simply this. Remem¬ 
bering the great divine precept, ‘ Thou shalt love thy 
neighbor as thyself/ she has felt that slavery is wrong, 


377 


and she has spoken as she has felt. And so has God 
said that it is wrong. We have labored, by moral 
and legitimate means, to reach the hearts and con¬ 
sciences of those who uphold this great wrong, that 
they might themselves decree its overthrow. We 
have felt the terrible enormity of this evil, and it is 
every man’s right,—it is his duty to pronounce that 
to be wrong which his moral sense condemns. We 
have done no more.” 

Third. I am brought now to the consideration of 
a third feature in the enlargement of our national 
greatness, which has been the result of the work of 
the heroes,—both the dead and the living,—whose 
memory we delight to honor in the service to which 
we are called to-day. I refer to the enlargement of 
our religious opportunity and duty in this day of light. 

It was not for the sake of the Republic, or for free¬ 
dom and philanthropy alone that the night was turned 
to day around us. The nation was not saved that it 
might “live unto itself.” Deeper into the problem of 
God’s providence than the statesman looked, can the 
Christian look, and trace a purpose of the infinite 
economy in the salvation of such a country. A new 
era (for the church of God) has opened as this day of 
light has dawned on us,—an era of the ascendency of 
moral principle, and of world-wide responsibility. 
With thoughts of this we prayed, far back, while the 
suspense of war was driving us continually to prayer 
for help. Not for ourselves alone did we desire to 
live, and that our nation might live, but for the good 
that we might do, for the diffusion of the blessings 
3 2* 


378 


which we knew were treasured in this land of Chris¬ 
tian freedom. And now with such a sentiment, 
quickened to high activity by the gratitude and joy of 
these later years, we are called to set an end before 
us, of which the reunion of this once divided land is 
but a type,—the conquest of the world for a true 
civilization, and a reunion of the race to Him who is 
its Covenant Lord and King. Do not think me 
extravagant in believing that God saved this country 
in the hour of its extreme peril, that He might use it 
as the mightiest instrument He ever wielded in 
making known His truth and grace to the nations. 
That which twenty years since was the narrowing 
vista, lies in the open prospect now, and the respon¬ 
sibility for wider plans, and greater courage, and 
truer loyalty, and more fervent consecration, is firmly 
settled on the citizens of a free Christian Republic. 
Let us take note of this and shape our lives accord¬ 
ingly. The mere natural forces of the world are not 
enough for the work we have to do. The pride and 
pageantry of life will indeed spread their nets around 
us with greater industry than ever. The need of 
personal integrity and of steadfastness to our highest 
moral convictions is urgent now indeed. But amid 
all resistance and discouragements, we are summoned 
to this broader field of action, to stand in an army 
organized for conquest, and to fight our warfare 
through until the glorious consummation comes. 

We have thus (although very inadequately) sur¬ 
veyed the moral enlargements that have been secured 
to us by God’s restoring mercy, as that mercy has 


379 


been wrought out through the heroic endeavors, and 
the surrendered lives of soldier brethren whose names 
we count among our nation’s honored dead to-day. 
And as we look, these enlargements rise before us 
and expand into a grandeur we cannot measure. 
For this is the day of the right hand of the Most 
High, and on its path of splendor comes the promise 
of a future, bright and blessed for this nation and 
for the world. 

“ Day breaks upon the hills, 

Slowly behind the midnight murk and trail 
Of the long storm, light brightens pure and pale, 

And the horizon fills. 

“ Oh, angels, sweet and grand, 

White-footed, from beside the throne of God, 

Thou movest with the palm and olive-rod, 

And day bespreads the land. 

“ His day we waited for! 

With faces to the East, we prayed and fought, 

And a faint music of the dawning caught 
All through the sound of war.” 

Fellow-citizens : as I have pursued the lines of 
thought that I have now been presenting to you, two 
facts have been kept constantly before my mind: ist— 
The grandeur of the work which was accomplished by 
the brave men whose memory keeps its fragrance in 
our hearts, in the conflict where they made an offer¬ 
ing of their lives upon the altar of love to their 
country. 

2d—The grandeur of the responsibilities which 
their sacrifices laid upon us, and of the work now 


38 o 


before us which those sacrifices have made possible to 
us. I have felt that in no way could we more truly 
honor them than by a careful study of the issues 
which were met and conquered by them, and those 
other issues and responsibilities which, dying, they 
left as their richest legacy to us. 

But there are memories of the past which come to 
us to-day, bearing gentler lessons than elsewhere we 
have ever learned,—examples of the noblest philan¬ 
thropy and the highest self-sacrifice. It is a singular 
feature of the working of evil, that it continually pro¬ 
duces its own alleviations. Its contact with good 
dashes out sparks which are the germs of cheering 
fires and friendly beacons. This feature was exhib¬ 
ited in the war in its unprecedented development of 
Christian activities and sympathies. Private minis¬ 
trations to the victims of war are of comparatively 
recent date. 

War has had to provide for its own victims. When 
Florence Nightingale went through the Crimean 
hospitals,—her lamp and her very shadow hailed with 
joy by the unfortunates who lay there,—the eyes of 
the world turned on her with wonderment, and 
Europe, Asia, and America rang with her well-deserved 
praise. But her fame and her reward are no longer 
unshared. Private ministration to the victims of our 
civil war became not only a familiar fact, but an organ¬ 
ized system, absorbing its millions of dollars and 
enlisting its thousands of willing hearts and ready 
hands. (And to you of this community not less than 
to other communities throughout this broad land was 


38i 


given the choice privilege,—dear to every patriotic 
heart,—to be represented not more truly by brave 
men who met the dangers of the camp and the field, 
than by other equally noble, if gentler souls, who with 
heroic self-surrender gave themselves to the ministry 
of the hospital, and of the couch of the dying soldier.) 

Where Scutari had one visitant, almost every battle¬ 
field from Bull Run to the Appomattox Court House 
had its scores of ministrants, both male and female. 

As geologic convulsions sometimes fling gems to 
the surface, so the fearful earthquake of war heaved 
into the light those two precious developments of 
Christian charity,—the Christian and the Sanitary 
Commissions,—which glow in the new risen sun of 
peace among the most radiant of the nation’s jewels 
of self-sacrificing love. We owe it to the memory of 
the dead whom we honor, that we cherish those 
examples of Christian philanthropy and secure their 
practical influence in our lives. As long as any of 
the widows or orphaned children of these heroes, or 
any of their enfeebled or maimed comrades, are found 
among us, let it never be forgotten that we owe them 
a sacred duty, and let us see to it that it is faithfully 
discharged. And let us remember further that as 
long as the wrong resists the right,—ever until the 
final victory is won, and the eternal peace is declared, 
there will be for us all an immeasurable field for the 
exercise of the broadest Christian philanthropy. 

2. The associations of this day ought, surely, to 
inspire in our hearts an intenser glow of genuine 
patriotism. 


382 


Patriotism is in some sense a universal passion. 
A French writer tells us of a native of one of the 
Asiatic isl^s who, amid the splendors of Paris, behold¬ 
ing a banana tree in the Garden of Plants, bathed it 
with tears, and seemed for a moment to be transported 
to his own land. 

The Ethiopian imagines that God made his sands 
and deserts, while only angels were employed in form¬ 
ing the rest of the world. 

The Maltese, insulated on a rock in the midst of the 
Mediterranean sea, distinguish their island by the 
appellation of “The Flower' of the World.” The 
Norwegians, proud of their barren summits, inscribe 
upon their rixdollars, “Spirit, loyalty, valor, and what¬ 
ever is honorable, let the world learn from the rocks 
of Norway.” The Esquimaux are no less attached to 
their frigid zone, esteeming the luxuries of blubber-oil 
for food, and an ice-cabin for habitation, above all the 
refinement of other countries. 

History holds the treasure of many a brilliant 
example of exalted patriotism for our emulation, but she 
reveals in all her pages no grander demonstrations of 
real love of country than was furnished by the 
uprising of this people in answer to the call of the 
government Mothers sent their sons, with a mother’s 
blessing, to the Southern battle-fields, and then 
turned back to saddened homes, to weep tears of 
human sorrow, mingled with devout thanksgiving to 
God that they were able to make such a sacrifice for 
their country. Husbands, fathers, sons, brothers, 
abandoned business and books, home and friends, at 


3§3 


the call of duty. The same lofty devotion to country 
which moved them to go followed them as they went, 
and inspired them with the most heroic endurance 
and the noblest daring. 

Well did that heroic boy from Indiana illustrate the 
spirit which animated that host, a million strong, 
which saved the nation. He enlisted in answer to 
the first call, and went down to West Virginia in the 
early part of the war, and, alas! too soon lay bleeding 
at the root of a tree in the midst of the battle. His 
comrade bowed over him to give him a drink from 
his canteen. He pronounced the name of mother 
with fast-failing breath; and when a squadron of 
cavalry dashed past, bearing the dear old flag, pushed 
his comrade away, faintly screaming, “Follow that 
flag!” choosing to die alone that it might not fall. 
So he died and so died thousands like him, that their 
country might live. Let the sacrifices and heroisms 
of those years of war live in our memories, that, 
appreciating more fully what it cost to preserve it, we 
may love our country with a deeper, truer, and more 
sensitive affection. Let the graves of these soldiers 
of the nation never be forgotten, but year after year, 
let all the people turn to them as to a shrine whence 
shall flow higher inspirations for the discharge of the 
solemn and important duties of citizenship. 

3. Again, there is a lesson of true charity and 
forgiveness to be learned at these shrines to-day, or 
whenever we come to them for this loving ministry of 
tender memory. The grave extinguishes every 
resentment. 


3^4 


The past years have been years of intense feeling. 
In the lurid light of war the lines between parties 
were sharply drawn. In the excitement of the hour, 
it was difficult to distinguish between the rebellion 
and the rebel. It was difficult to hate the one heartily 
enough without hating the other also. But now that 
peace has risen upon our land, and has so long time 
shed her mild beams over us, it becomes us to bury 
in these graves the last vestiges of division and 
prejudice. In the eloquent language of another, 
uttered on an occasion like the present: 

“ Need I plead for the perfect union to which, I 
trust, we all aspire ? Let the last trace of bitterness 
vanish. I ask not for forgetfulness. I should be 
ashamed to stand before you and ask you to forget 
the heroic deeds of your dead,—ask you to be false to 
the memory of those who breasted the storm of battle 
and fell before its angry blasts. You should not if 
you could. Forgetfulness! No! Forgiveness! Yes!” 
Reconciliation without regret and unity without 
division. 

When Charles Sumner made the proposition that 
the battle names be erased from the banners of the 
nation, we all understood the impulse that prompted 
it,—the desire on the part of him who had been the 
most uncompromising champion of human rights,— 
the civic Cromwell of our civil strife,—to show how 
sincere was his forgiveness, how fully his resentments 
were subdued in the hour of his triumph. He was 
but little in advance of his country. No act of his 
life will meet with greater encomium than the magna- 


3^5 


nimity which illumined its close. The battle glories, 
traced between the stripes upon the flag, are of little 
significance compared with the great events which 
they only shadow forth. These need no lifeless letters 
to proclaim their import. Themselves proclaim the 
new-born nation, and declare their own vitality. 
They live in a union indissoluble, and a freedom 
indestructible. We owe it to the memory of the dead 
to cultivate this spirit of broadest charity, for thus 
only can the great cause for which they died be 
carried to its glorious consummation, and the true 
union, based upon mutual good will and equality 
before the law, be established in all this land. 

4. Again, the lesson of the hour is one of faith 
and hope. The God of our fathers, who has led us 
hitherto, will guide us still. It has been truthfully 
said that “ the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the 
church,” and so the blood of these martyrs, poured 
out on the altar of human liberty as free as summer 
rain, will not be lost. It shall be the seed of a 
nation whose broad arms shall open to welcome the 
suffering and oppressed of every land, the genial 
influence of whose peerless civilization and Christian 
principle will flow out to every kindred of earth. 
Our Christianity points us to a golden age, not in the 
past, but in the future. Standing to-day upon the 
radiant summit of a hundred years, by the graves of 
these buried soldiers, we turn to look for it with 
faith, and hope, and joy. 

“ Tis coming up the steep of time, 

And this old world is growing brighter; 


33 


386 


We may not see its dawn sublime, 

But high hopes make our hearts beat lighter. 

We may be sleeping in the ground 
When it awakes the world in wonder, 

But we have felt it gathering round, 

And heard its voice of living thunder, 

’Tis coming, yes ; ’tis coming ! ” 

These then be the men whose memory we delight 
to honor. And to-day we come again to bring our 
tribute of tender recollection for those of our sons 
and brothers who fell in our country’s service. So 
shall their names stand in the annals of our history 
as the men who saved the Republic. The roster and 
the roll shall be handed down from father to son, 
proclaiming the men who breasted the storm and put 
down the Great Rebellion. 

While we have welcomed some back to their homes 
and ours , it is fitting that we should pay a tribute of 
love and honor to the unreturning and fallen ones. 

Of the camp and the hospital, the picket and the 
march,—of the trenches,—the skirmish,—the open 
field of struggle, and the very works of the enemy, 
frowning, and bristling, and smoking with deadly 
defiance; of the fatigue, exposure, hardship, and 
imminent peril; of the discomforts and self-denials, 
the poor fare,—the scant fare , and the no fare at all; 
—of the weary, wasting days of utter exhaustion, or 
acute sickness, and the long night watches over com¬ 
panions by the dim hospital light,— of all these we 
knew nothing, abiding here in our quiet homes, and 
our regular manner of life. Some returned to tell us 
of it, but we shall never comprehend it, in the midst 


3«7 


of our conveniences and comforts and luxuries. This 
we do comprehend, however, and will remember, 
whenever we see a returned soldier, or think of a 
martyred soldier, that if our army had not gone forth, 
no American home, as it was and is, would have 
remained for them, or for us. 

As with deep gratitude we remember the living, so 
we cannot forget the unreturning and the dead. We 
remember the red battle-fields of Williamsburgh, Fair 
Oaks, Bull Run, Centreville, Antietam, and Gettys¬ 
burg, with their martyred heroes. We remember 
those who in the fierce struggle of the “ seven days ” 
battle laid themselves down to die under the grateful 
shade in the Peninsular swamp. We remember the 
brave soldiers at Centreville lying wounded nine days 
upon the battle-field. We remember those signifi¬ 
cant mounds at Butte-a-la-Rose, at Brashear City, at 
New Orleans, at Port Hudson, at Nicholsville. We 
remember those wasting and dying ones in rebel 
prisons. We remember the ocean burial, where the 
wild tumult of the sea chants forever the requiem of 
the brave. We remember the graves, here and there, 
of those who fell by the way, returning, and the 
burial of others at home with kindred dust. And 
these are the noble men whose memory we honor 
to-day. Let their names and their deeds be held in 
everlasting remembrance. 

They gave themselves to the country in its need, 
and sealed their loyalty by their death. Many of 
them sleep by the river they went to reopen for the 
nation at the price of their own lives,—graves more 


388 


honored than we could have given them here, though 
affection would have placed them nearer home. 
Fitting it is, that since they must fall, that the defend¬ 
ers of the Father of Waters should sleep along his 
noble banks. Those graves are the nation’s sentinels, 
forever set to watch and warn against any obstruction 
of that national highway. 

That these men fell early has long since been over¬ 
looked in the fact that they, died for the country. 

History makes little account of the age of patriot 
soldiers who fall. The majority of them did not die 
from wounds inflicted by the enemy. They were 
killed by the campaign, wounded all over. Let it not 
be said that they fell afar off. They fell by the altars 
of their country. Let it not be said that they rest 
solitary, outside any proper burial enclosure, as in 
some potter’s field. They sleep in the broadest, 
noblest of cemeteries, whose utmost bounds, sacrile¬ 
giously defaced and removed, they reset; whose 
borders they ornamented, whose proudest and most 
historic monuments themselves erected. They sleep, 
with their one hundred thousand companions in arms, 
in the Union Cemetery. Its fencings,—its running 
outlines, that they looked well to before they fell, are 
the great Lakes, the two Oceans, and the gulf of 
Mexico. Let it not be said that they sleep with no 
monument to their memory. The country with its 
rich treasure of institutions saved, the government 
re-established, the high and honorable place for our 
name on the roll of living nations preserved against 
expunging hands,—this is their monument. The 
world shall look at it, on its Eastern, and Western, and 


3^9 


Northern, and Southern faces, and wonder and admire. 
Our unbroken domain is their monument. Its ancient 
bounds of oak and hickory they have reset in granite. 
Let it not be said that their solitary graves are with¬ 
out an epitaph. At every mound where a soldier 
rests, the American citizen and the historian of the 
preserved Union shall read this inscription : 

HE SAVED THE REPUBLIC ! ! ! 

So much for the debt of gratitude and of honor to 
our fallen soldiers, doubly due, but poorly paid, I 
have deemed it eminently proper to discharge on this 
occasion. And so, according to my poor ability, have 
I deemed it my duty, as it is my mournful pleasure, to 
lay the laurel wreath on the graves of our fallen 
heroes. 

.... a By few is glory’s wreath attained ; 

But death, or soon or late, awaiteth all! 

To fight in Freedom’s cause is something gained, 

And nothing lost to fall. 

“ Who lives for country, through his arm feels all her forces 
flow; 

’Tis easy to be brave for truth as for the rose to blow. 

“ Oh! Law, fair form of Liberty, God’s light is on thy brow. 

Oh! Liberty, thou soul of Law, God’s very self art thou. 

One, the clear river’s sparkling flood that clothes the bank 
with green, 

And one, the line of stubborn rock that holds the waters in. 

“ Oh ! daughter of the bleeding Past; Oh ! Hope the Prophets 
saw— 

God give us Law in Liberty, and Liberty in Law.” 

May 29, 1880. 


EXTRACTS. 


FROM A SKETCH OF MRS. GAYLORD’S LIFE, THE 
PUBLICATION OF WHICH WAS AFTERWARDS 
ABANDONED. 

It is not the purpose of this sketch to give any 
analysis of the character of its subject, much less to 
attempt an eulogy of her whose presence and whose 
life of untiring devotion to her home and her Master’s 
kingdom are so sadly missed in every hour. Other 
pens, prompted by loving hearts that have known her 
intimately during the past, have already done this, 
and their testimonies are scattered along the follow¬ 
ing pages of this memorial. The tribute of an affec¬ 
tion that from early youth has woven together the 
threads of two lives and made them one, is to 
gather from the rich profusion of those offerings of 
love a few leaves, and weave them into a garland of 
precious and comforting memories of the loved and 
lost for those whose friendship she prized, and to keep 
fresh through the coming years in the hearts of the 
dear children of her love, the recollection of that 
mother’s devotion of which because of their years 
they knew so little , while yet, because of its wealth, 
they knew so much. 



39i 


FROM A SERMON WRITTEN IN MAY, 1882, THE 

FIRST OF A SERIES ON u THE SON OF MAN.” 

The Lord reveals the divine idea of man. He 
reveals it as Adam never could have revealed it even 
in his innocency. Man can only complete himself in 
God. 

The essential unity of humanity is the one great 
revelation of the scripture from the first page to the 
last. Diversities there are of the gravest kinds in 
character, conduct, experience, and destiny, but all 
within the compass of essential unity, all within the 
pale of the brotherhood of our race. 

It matters profoundly what we are, what we think, 
what we do. We can grieve the Holy Spirit by our 
unbelief and our indolence, rob the Saviour of the 
fruit of his travail, and frustrate the most cherished 
hope of God, the purpose with which He made and 
rules the worlds. It should be full of lofty inspiration 
to us that such a being as the man Christ Jesus has 
trodden the pathway of our world. Since His advent 
the earth has been haunted by a holy presence. His 
human life has made our human life divine. 

Son of man, understand the greatness of your 
calling. Now is your citizenship in heaven. The 
motives which are to inspire you, the pattern you are 
to imitate, the end at which you are to aim, the hope 
you are to fulfill,—all these you share with the angels, 
the blessed ones made perfect, and the Lord Christ 
as He lives and reigns on His glorious throne. 


392 


FROM A SERMON WRITTEN MAY 20, 1882, AND 
ENTITLED “SON OF MAN AMONG MEN.” 

“ Rebuke self-seeking by self-forgetful humility. 
Don’t worry about what honor you get. You get 
what you deserve—nothing less, nothing more. Don’t 
think of yourself, think of your work; think of what 
you can do for others, not what you can get from 
them. The Lord was among them “as one that 
serveth.” Ask no higher or better station than your 
Lord’s. Move among men, on the watch for what 
you can do to help them, and to bless them; let honor 
grow out of service; despise glory if you can win love.” 

“And rebuke malignity by genial delight in all good 
and beautiful things. Be full of the charity “that 
hopeth all things, and believeth all things;” “that 
rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth.” 
Nothing so frightens malignity as honest,genial joy. 
And catch from the life of the Master that yearning 
love for the weak, the poor, the helpless, which malig¬ 
nity would stifle. When their malignity watched 
Him to denounce and condemn, He spoke to them of 
a great ingathering of the poor, the halt, the maimed, 
the blind, into the King’s banquet-hall, that His wed¬ 
ding might be furnished with rejoicing guests from 
the poorest, the saddest, the most outcast of mankind. 
Go ye and do likewise. Let the most wretched, the 
most wrecked, the most sinful, the most hopeless, feel 
that there is a Gospel, good news from God, for them.” 

“If there is one sin which can be deemed as the 
unpardonable sin, it is this,—the spirit which rejoices 


in the limitation of mercy, and would restrain, if it 
could, the outflow of God’s love to man.” 

“ But to the lovers of the poor, the helpers of the 
poor, His words were ever full of genial benignity 
and love. It is His. mission. It is the meaning of 
His life. Friends, would you be helpers of the Son 
of Man in the regeneration ? Help Him to lift and 
bear the burden of the hunger, the want, the sin, the 
wretchedness of the world.” 


FROM A SERMON WRITTEN IN 1863, ENTITLED 
“ EFFECTUAL PRAYER.” 

“We are indeed to offer all our petitions through 
the Mediator, and to know that, being sinners, we 
can have access to God in no other name. Yet we 
are also to remember that Christ brings us to God 
no farther and no faster than He brings us away 
from our sins; that we have real access to God no 
farther than we are made to resemble Him. Prayer, 
to have any influence or efficacy with God must be 
the offering of a person who has the character which 
is described in the Bible by the term ‘righteous.’” 

“It is not enough to be careful what sort of pray¬ 
ers you offer. You need to be careful what sort of 
persons you are that offer them. It is not enough 
that all be correct and orthodox in the prayer, nor 
even that you be very fervent and importunate in 
offering it. It behooves you to have regard to your 
habitual state, to your settled and permanent charac¬ 
ter.” 



394 


“There is, besides, a specific character belonging 
to the prayer itself. That characteristic is a sacred 
earnestness, a holy fervor of desire, a lifting of the 
soul to God in urgent, importunate entreaty, a laying 
hold of Him humbly, yet eagerly, with that holy 
boldness which He permits. Such prayer is effica¬ 
cious.” 

“Humble prayer and earnest, obedient effort are 
wont to go together. They promote each other.” 


FROM A SERMON WRITTEN IN NOVEMBER, 1877, 
AND ENTITLED “PARENTAL OBLIGATIONS.” 

“When we remember the activities of human 
nature, putting themselves forth into spontaneous 
exercise, and grasping all objects of sense and 
thought; when we remember the passive powers of 
childhood, taking impression like softened wax from 
every contact; when we remember its power of 
absorption, imbibing from the social atmosphere 
health or sickness; when we remember, in a word, 
that the world, the flesh, and the devil are combined 
to educate the soul; so that all its powers shall grow 
stiff in bad habits, all its capacities be filled with 
falsehood and closed against religion by the prejudice 
of an unconverted heart and that most obdurate of 
all bigotry, the bigotry of sin,—when we remember 
all this, the theory of religious neutrality in educa¬ 
tion seems to have no element of reason to relieve its 
absurdity.” 



395 


“Holiness in the family should be an atmosphere 
to be breathed. Religion should not be a contraband 
topic, to be spoken of in a whisper, as if it were 
offensive to polite ears, but it should be one of the 
familiar themes which make up life’s business. Then 
the child will grow into the natural and easy boldness 
of not being ashamed of having a soul to save and a 
God to honor.” 


FROM A SERMON WRITTEN IN i860, ENTITLED 
“ DEW ON ISRAEL.” 

“Religion adorns as well as saves. It imparts 
grace and fragrance as well as strength and virtue. 
Indeed, there is a peculiar grace and dignity in the 
man who walks with God.” 

“ ‘ Like begets like.’ And the man who holds inti¬ 
mate daily intercourse with God in meditation and 
prayer, will come to reflect not a little the excellence 
and the beauty of the divine mind.” 

• . . . • • %» 

“The beauty of moral goodness never decays. 
The graces of the true Christian bloom in perpetual 
verdure. They are never so lovely as in a ripe old 
age, never so transcendent, so truly divine as in the 
hour of dying.” 



396 


“ Thou blessed Saviour, now attend, 

And hear a mourner’s prayer ; 

Wilt thou thy Spirit quickly send, 

To dry the sorrowing tear? 

“ Thy chastening rod, O Lord, I feel, 

May I submission prove ! 

Thy loving hand doth not afflict 
Thy children,—but in love. 

“ And when I’ve served Thee here below, 
And when my earthly course is run, 
Before thy throne, Oh, may I meet 
My loved, my lost, my cherished one. 

“ Though dead,—not lost,—but gone before 
To realms of bliss beyond the skies, 
Where care and sorrow' never come, 

Nor tears bedim those joyous eyes. 

“ O joyous hope ! O happy thought! 

My heart with rapture swells, 

That in a brighter, happier world, 

We soon with Christ shall dwell. 

• “ My Father, hear, Oh, hear my prayer, 

I plead the merits of thy Son; 

And may I ever freely say, 

‘Thy will, O Lord, not mine, be done.’” 








































































































































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